A Prince's best friend
by Itar94
Summary: COMPLETE [Merthur] Merlin gets himself turned into a cat, Arthur's befuddled, Morgana's bemused and intrigued, the knights somehow gets involved in this mess playing matchmakers and Uther is not amused whatsoever.
1. Merlin has an accident

**A Prince's best friend**

_**Author's note (2011):** __This started off as an oneshot-silly-thing, but got bigger and bigger and at the end simply wrote itself. Just like most of my one-shots/lighter/more humorous Merlin stories its set just briefly after the end of season one, with a still good Morgana and not as much angst as in later seasons. Also, I might be __**dismissing and/or disregarding**__ some Arthur/Gwen that's been developing during the season, as it's __**Merlin/Arthur**__ mainly. __**Do not **__read if you're __**upset**__ by __**slash**__ (no matter how mild). __This is written to humour and entertain, no kerchiefs to dry up tears are needed. (It might become a reveal fic in the end, but no one will get killed or seriously injured.) I strayed off the angsty path awhile, in need of respite. Please do not take it too seriously (this is humour. Not parody though, but still.)_

_Set after season 1, but before season 2 episode 2. Note! Includes a character originally from Season 3 (Gwaine), but he's so awesome I had to use him, so I've changed some facts about him like he's originally from Camelot._

_**Newer note (2012-07-22)**: I'm going through and revising each chapter of this story, mainly checking for grammatical mistakes but also other errors. All edits will be minor and not affect the story-line or plot._

_**Rating**: M because I'm paranoid._

_**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin_

_**Disclaimer:** 'Merlin' and its characters are property of the series producers, BBC and mythology, not me, no matter how I'd wish it. (I think you could guess the outcome if I'd been in charge of the series.) Any OCs occurring in this or any other of my stories belongs to me._

_Lastly, no cats, brooms, old men or knights were harmed during the making of this fanfic._

()()()

**Chapter 1: In which Merlin has an accident (…no, not that kind of accident!)**

"Merlin?"

Large blue eyes, uncanny on that face – too intelligent and sharp and steady – stared up at him. The look startled him, and forced him to repeat, "_Mer_lin?"

The answer was something meow-like and a look saying '_No, I'm an ordinary kitten_.' (Could a cat even express sarcasm?)

Arthur blanched, unable to decide whether to be horrified or shocked or maybe laugh his head off. Because this was _Merlin_, inevitably clumsy, stupid and friendly-to-a-fault (maybe except when dealing with certain pratheaded princes), and if he'd ever been fated to get turned into an animal a _cat_ seriously didn't fit. Cats were supposed to be _graceful_ and ferocious (to some degree at least) and whatnot; not stare up at him with worried eyes and be so damned uncatly intelligent (or maybe stupid to get turned into a cat in the first place). Lastly, if there was one, it was so unfair that Merlin had to look so…so… _cute_ (Arthur did _not_ just think that!), like in a kittenly, big-earedly cute, Merlin-innocent-way. The servant's clothes lay in a pile in the corner, but somehow the red neckerchief had stayed in place, if a bit too big. He very much looked like a tiny, poor kitten which had been abandoned by the owner, lonely and longing to be picked up and taken to a safe new home.

"How did this happen?" Arthur demanded to know and the cat huffed at him, like 'Oh yes, ask the cat, he can talk' – the prince sighed, looked down at the black animal, not really able to glare. Well, it was just a tiny defenseless kitten! (Had it been a full-human Merlin, he'd acted differently, really. It was just the weirdness of the situation getting to him. Really.) Hopefully nobody would hear him - the prince of Camelot having gone lunatic. Talking with a _cat_. He'd never hear the end of it. Was this a dream? What had he drunk last night anyway? Had someone smuggled something into his cup? Had Gaius drugged him again?

This felt a bit too…real.

"Right. _Right_. What on earth am I going to do with you? You were an idiot to begin with (of _course_) but how are you going to survive as a _cat? _Heavens, you're no good at anything, you can't fight, can't hunt—you're going to bloody starve and the dogs will slash you into meat-pie within five minutes-Don'tlook at me that way!_" _Merlin was_ hissing _at him and showing off glintingclaws_. _For heaven's sake…claws!

Now he'd let off some steam, feigning anger when in truth he was very worried: he'd never admit that out loud. But this was sorcery. It was tricky and dangerous and unless Gaius' had something up his sleeve (like an ancient dusty book no one else cared about) Merlin might have to stay like this _forever_. Permanently. Cat. Stuck. Not to mention the king would go berserk when finding out about witchery going on right under his nose…yet again.

Merlin stared up at him desperate to say something, like _'I'll fix this!'_ and _'I'm not an idiot!' _but out came only hisses and meows and other cat-like sounds. It felt so weird, not to mention everything was in the wrong height. Arthur was like a tower, blonde and loud and obnoxious as ever; and every piece of furniture tempted, _beckoned_ him to start scratching at them with his sharp claws; his senses were heightened too, someone moved down the corridor outside the door, making him flinch. Some thoughts he couldn't get his head around yet – he had a bloody _tail_, for god's sake!

It twitched. Nervously.

"Stay put. I'll find Gaius." The prince swirled on his heel (no wonder the boots always had holes in them) and marched out of the room.

()()()

The black cat waited till the outer door clicked closed before trying to reach out for magic: it'd always flowed in his veins, his breath, his bones, but now he found it difficult to grasp. Getting turned into a cat had been a complete accident - honest! - but there had to be a solution of some kind. But with paws he couldn't lift the loose board in the floor of his room and reach the book beneath (he wasn't insane enough to nudge Arthur there, dance around his feet with begging eyes, to make _him_ lift it), so he used the power surging beneath his furred paws. The board crumbled and turned into a bunch of brightly coloured flowers. The cat blinked. Odd.

At least he got the book out.

When he tried to turn the pages (using magic), the book turned alive and snarled at him like a dog. Merlin, startled, jumped back and began hissing at the thing and the book fled to cover down the stairs, into Gaius' chamber, out of sight of the thousand unimportant things filling the room – more books, bottles, parchments, boxes. It'd be almost _impossible_ to find.

What'd just happened? His magic never had been so sporadic. Impulsive maybe, but he'd always been able to control what he wanted…like slowing down time and making things float. He tried to do the latter, it shouldn't be hard, but instead the pot intended turned into a bouquet. Again, he tried. The chair began to tap dance around the room. Horrified, Merlin stared at it and tried to make it stop, and instantly it transformed. Into a table. That continued to dance.

Oh _great_. He could already feel Gaius' Eyebrow burning on his back.

()()()

"Merlin! My god - what happened?"

Seriously, he wished he could stand up hands crossed over chest and say, _'Why are you asking a cat when you know I can't talk, damn it?'._ Crossing paws was a lot more difficult and a lot less effective. Silence descended upon the room instead and Merlin felt kind of stupid.

By the time Gaius had come back to his home, the chair-turned-table had decided to take a break, perhaps worn out by all the new exercise. In the middle of the room, surrounded by some disarrayed bottles (they'd stilled now), there'd been a black cat reading an old, thick book. When the door had opened, the animal startled and jumped into a basket behind it, which promptly toppled over, sprawling the contents over the floor with a loud clatter.

Arthur followed closely after the physician. "I found him like this. I'm positive, Gaius. This is Merlin, how improbable it may seem. Just…just _look_ at him!" The eyes were the same. Uncannily the same. The neckerchief. Everything. The cat was also clumsy – too clumsy to be a real one. The prince was oblivious to the strange chaos of the room, how there was an extra table instead of a chair and all those flowers and the open, mysterious book. Gaius' chambers had always been a bit odd and anyway, he was the prince so why should he care?

(_Exactly the point_.)

He was far too focused on the cat to notice anyway.

The creature meowed pitifully.

"Oh dear," Gaius said. _Well, yes, 'Oh dear',_ Merlin agreed. _Though_ _that tone of voice isn't necessary_.

"Can it be fixed?"

Gaius gave the blonde a serious look. "Arthur, I heal those who are ill and injured. This certainly isn't a…malady of a scientific kind. This must be the result of an enchantment. I've never heard of the likes before. I do not know how to reverse it."

The cat's already wide eyes widened more, before the animal's shoulders slumped. Well, would've slumped had he had human shoulders. What was he going to do now? He didn't want to stay a cat forever! No! Never! He'd have to stay short, small, four-legged, tailed, furry, and have to hunt mice, have a diet mostly consisting of fish…and maybe little birds and mice. Yuck. Making Arthur eat (or at least trying to, as in the end it'd been _himself_ eating) rat was one thing. _This_, this was completely another.

The prince took a bit of pity on him. No matter how useless a servant Merlin was, not even he deserved a fate such as this.

"Maybe if I search through one of my books…" Gaius said slowly after awhile, really, he wanted to help too. His ward looked so crestfallen where he was sitting on the floor. "It's best to keep Merlin out of trouble."

'_Hey! Don't talk about me like I'm not here!'_ All that came out were yowls and growls. Arthur looked half-worried, half-amused (if that kind of expression even is possible) and stood there weighing his options while Gaius left for his manuscripts. He had an odd urge to pick the servant-turned-cat up in his arms (the fur was slightly tousled and the tail twitched and the ears turned to follow every slight sound) but that'd just be … weird. Even if Merlin was a cat.

The options, however, weren't about lifting the cat up. They were the following:

Tell his father there had been sorcery in the city, the castle, right under his nose and it had made a man turn into an animal. Thus the king would search, accuse, arrest and eventually execute people in a heartbeat. Everyone would be afraid and worried and confused and suspicious and would lead to a headache beyond despair. (Because if it was an assassin, why pick a simple servant boy and not someone royal? Hm? Oh, an attack from within, to hit close to home, namely Arthur: every option meant trouble…The king would go into _frenzy_.)

Keep this occurrence a secret and pretend that Merlin was ill, and lock the cat up in a room, keep him put, or something else, as a cat couldn't be useful other than keeping the castle mice-free (But then again, Merlin was a terrible hunter, in the past he'd been bested by a _rat_ for heaven's sake.)

Or maybe he'd take a strong drink, go to sleep and wake up with the realization he'd had a very weird dream. (The pinching thing hadn't worked.)

…He'd think of a fourth choice to insert if need be. Yes. Right.

Arthur was shaken out of his thoughts when a crash reached his ears and he saw a pile of books fall down over a black shadow, which tried to move away but reacted too late. Obviously the cat had been trying to jump up to the table. After the hit, Merlin whined and rubbed his nose with a paw. Far too cute for his own good. Before knowing what he was doing, Arthur had picked him up (_'Hey! Don't manhandle me!' _shouted Merlin_, Grrr grrr grrr_) in a secure, firm but somewhat gentle grip.

"You really are a klutz, Merlin," he muttered. "Do you need babysitting or what?"

The fur beneath Arthur's hands was very soft and he couldn't stop himself from scratching behind the left twitchy ear. The animal slacked and began to purr. Merlin didn't notice he was doing it and Arthur wasn't really minding. Actually it was quite nice, the man's hands were really warm and slightly roughened, like strong but not in a bad way, no definitely not bad at a-…

Wait just one moment! He was _not_ purring by being scratched by that _prat_! God, it was _Arthur_, how could he enjoy Arthur _scratching_ _his ear_! Abruptly the cat twisted and bit the blonde's hand. Not hard enough to draw blood, of course (he'd never hurt the prince like that without a reasonable reason) but hard enough to make the man jump and start shouting, almost dropping the cat in the process.

"What do you think you're doing?" the prince swore and shouted, both shocked and outraged. "You stupid idiot! You _bit_ me, _me_, the prince of Camelot! Oh just you wait, I am so going to put you in the stocks for this! A whole day – no, a week, a month! _You_ _bit me_!"

Merlin glared at him, before jumping out of his arms and taking refugee behind a few bottles on Gaius' desk. Admittedly the landing was kind of awkward but at least the table was higher off the ground than the floor and thus not such a long drop, and luckily he landed on all fours, _not_ on his back this time.

"Oh right. Fine. I've got physical evidence that you are the worst manservant in history! Ever! I ought to replace you."

'_Since when did you need evidence to proclaim that? Besides you've already said that thousands of times – but never actually __**fired**__ me,' _Merlin growled at the prince and promptly turned his back. Arthur was in a huff.

"Honestly. You are an idiot. Letting yourself get turned into a ball of fur."

'_It's not like it's my fault! Although maybe it is … you know, I do have magic after all. Wait, you __**don't **__**know**__ that, Arthur. So it's not my fault,'_ the cat retorted but was left incoherent in the men's ears. _'From now on I'm not talking to you anymore.' _Like it mattered what he tried to say. He trotted over to Gaius' side, briefly brushing the old man's feet to get attention and show that he had nothing against him, contra a certain prince who was glaring at him rather heatedly now.

"Sire, perhaps you have duties to attend to," Gaius pointed out. "Your father did request your presence in the hall."

"Yes. Of course," the prince muttered distractedly, a glance at the dark-furred animal at the physician's feet. "Alert me if you find any solution to this…problem."

()()()

The library was as usual dim and dusty, shelf before shelf after shelf filled with ancient texts and scrolls blocking out the sunlight from whatever scarce windows there were. A few candles were lit at the historian's desk, and silence lay everywhere like a sheet.

Geoffrey didn't like visitors too much, but was an old friend of Gaius' so he tolerated (or even liked) the other man's company. Merlin the cat managed to sneak inside after the two old men, in another direction than they were headed. Just because he happened to have paws at the moment, instead of hands, it didn't mean he was unable to read. Actually his sight seemed to have improved a lot, along with all other senses, so he could read titles far above his head. Must be some feline trait, useful when hunting.

'Family tree of Sir Wernhelm the Third of Mercia' (there were a lot similar books there as well: Geoffrey really loved history)… 'History of Camelot - 200 years of kingship and glory' (Oh yes, glory, especially since after the Purge, Merlin thought sarcastically)… 'One hundred uses for Belladonna' (Oh! That sounded like a magic book!)…'Common ailments and how to heal them' (This wasn't a common ailment, so Merlin skipped that one too)… 'A guide'… The last volume was old, torn and worn, a piece of its back had fallen off so there were no more words to read.

A guide? What guide for what? That was the whole title? Was it maybe a magic book? His curiosity peaked; Merlin summoned his magic and (amazingly without error) succeeded in lifting the book from its shelf, through the air and onto the floor. The first few pages contained plain black-on-white words, printed delicately, and they told almost nothing about the book itself. It was all vague. But when he nudged it open somewhere in the middle, a variety of colours opened before his eyes and he was both surprised and thrilled to see the language of the Old Religion. This must be some forgotten thing, if the king knew he might have this burned. The text spoke of magical creatures, enchantments of all kinds concerning certain animals. Maybe..?

'_Gaius!'_ he cried, _'Look what I found!' _Out came out an excited yowl, too late he realized he wasn't supposed to be here. The librarian came rushing from a corner…with a broom.

"I will not tolerate this, cats in the library, this is outrageous! Out, out, out!" Maybe he thought a black cat a bad omen, or he simply didn't like cats in general. The broom came swinging down forcefully, dangerously close to Merlin's nose. "Get out, infernal beast!"

Merlin did the only sensible thing, the man had a surprisingly strong grip and steady swing of the broom, dust was dancing by his feet. So he leapt out of the way, down the corridor and out the door at the back, leaving behind the magic-book open on the floor.

()()()

"Found anything?"

"Not anything that could be of help, sire. I'm afraid Merlin will have to survive his current situation a bit longer."

Both men shared a glance towards a spot next to the table, where the cat had curled up to sleep. The tail sometimes twitched unconsciously, like he was dreaming. _Do cats even dream?_ Arthur wondered, and then shrugged; this wasn't the time to think about such things and anyway, he'd ask Merlin later when he was back on two feet. Because he would be, definitely. There _had_ to be a way.

"We got to find a solution. Nobody's noticed Merlin's absence yet but soon they'll pay heed: the cooks, the other servants, maybe even some of the knights - and if word reaches my father…" Arthur couldn't exactly explain why but he had a feeling that Merlin's unexpected transformation actually hadn't to do with a sorcerer attacking the city. It was just a feeling. (A logical explanation of what had happened could be that Merlin had found an old book or item and stupid as he is touching it or something without checking for danger first: it'd be so _typically_ Merlin.) After all, if there was a sorcerer out there, why attack a simple servant like that? Why not the king, the prince, a lord or lady? This certainly didn't seem the right way of making the kingdom roll into chaos. It couldn't even classify as an attack upon the kingdom, really.

"We could say he a serious, contagious illness has befallen him."

Despite the seriousness (or perhaps serious hilariousness - in Arthur's mind it's questionable which one it is) of the situation, the prince couldn't help but exclaiming: "I do hope his condition isn't contagious!"


	2. Uther might not like what he sees

**A Prince's best friend  
>Chapter 2: In which Uther might not like all that he sees<strong>

It was when he started noticing the black feline constantly at his son's heels that Uther began growing…_suspicious_.

It was no secret, at least not among the courtiers, that Arthur had taken no great liking to cats. Dogs were all right, and he where used to their presence especially during hunting; and horses was one of Arthur's loves, essential to him as warrior and prince. But since when had Arthur tolerated having a cat following him around everywhere all the time? Especially one so … clumsy.

Uther wasn't by any means blind, especially not when that _thing_ kept bumbling into people in the hallways, tying knots of the servants' legs, making courtiers trip and once almost jumbling the king himself when he was making his way to the great hall. (Which had made Arthur glare at the creature fiercely, protectively yet scolding; Uther could almost imagine his son saying "Watch where you're going, you buffoon, or you'll get into trouble!")

Later that evening at dinner, after a half cup of cool wine and a wonderful steak, the king coughed pointedly as his son entered the hall, late. Morgana looked at the slightly disheveled young man with a delicately raised eyebrow (his hair needed to be combed…and what was that on his left sleeve? Scratch marks?). Arthur ignored the look she sent him and looked at the king, bowing his neck.

"Son, where have you been? I called for you over one candle-mark ago."

"I'm sorry father," Arthur said. "Training with the knights got postponed earlier because of an incident, and I had to finish it. Obviously I cannot let the knights grow slack despite the occasional…disruption." If it was a lie, it was told smoothly.

"Well then. Take seat, before the food gets cold." Uther raised his hand, signaling a servant to fetch something hot and fresh from the oven, and someone scurried to comply. He cut up more steak. It tasted lovely, indeed.

And then that blasted black fur-ball appeared, like out of nowhere, stroking its body against the prince's ankles as it walked past. When Arthur sat down at his usual seat at the far end of the long table, the cat settled by his feet. Automatically the blonde bent down offering the creature a piece of meat from his plate.

"Arthur." The tone was one of admonition.

For some reason Arthur feigned innocence. Morgana snickered a bit, but Uther didn't appear to notice. "Yes, father?"

"What is that..._thing_ doing here?"

"Oh. That. It has been following me all day, refusing to leave like the most stubborn underling, you see, and I hadn't the heart to kick him out of my sight," The prince looked at the animal in an odd, almost honest-to-heart kind of way which made Uther both uneasy and amused; he'd rarely seen his son so emotionally attached to an animal (nor to a person), and it was obvious he liked to have the cat nearby. It was a very dedicated pet. The cat, sensing the king's stare, hid beneath the prince's chair, suddenly startled or timid.

"Well then. Have you made sure it's not carrying any diseases? We cannot have an animal running around spreading illness in the court."

"Of course I let Gaius examine him," Arthur said, slightly offended at the suggestion of his stubborn companion having a disease. "He's clean." He nudged with his foot under the chair forcing the cat to move. It made a displeased sound and jumped into the prince's lap instead. Its gaze found the food and it stared at Arthur's plate intensively.

"Well, as long as it's not causing any trouble," Uther said with a nod. "Does it have a name?"

"Name?" Arthur blinked, and looked down at the decidedly hungry animal which was now looking back at him with wide, blue 'I'm-cute-and-pitiful-please-give-me-what-I-want' eyes. He lowered his voice a pitch, leaning forward a little as if chastising the cat: "Get off me and I'll fix you something to eat. It's not dignified for a prince to have a cat cuddling his lap. Get off, I said. I'll even get you some cream if you behave. All right?"

The cat stood on its hind paws and brushed the prince's chin with the top of its head in affirmation before obediently jumping off (the creature was rather small, Uther now realized, a scrawny little thing, it probably hadn't been fed properly before in its entire life.)

"So. A name," Arthur began talking again (before he managed to react at the cat's odd sweet gesture, which did _not_ make him want to cuddle it) toward his father and Morgana, who was listening and not even hiding her bemusement. A servant hurried to fetch a bowl and filled it with meat, and another with milk, and placed it on the floor near the prince's chair. The cat began eating like a starved.

"I don't know, I haven't thought of it yet." Honestly, he'd always called Merlin Merlin (and sometimes also idiot. Well, more times than some times, really) whether he had a tail or not. "I was thinking of Klutz. What about you, any ideas, Morgana?"

"Oh, I wouldn't know," the woman smiled secretly. "Perhaps something like _Marvin-_" Arthur jumped in shock there, nearly dropping his cup of wine onto his newly washed shirt, "-would suit him. He is very endearing, isn't he?" And then she cooed, "Aren't you a sweet little thing? I'm not surprised that you've caught Arthur's eye, I know his tastes." at the cat which suddenly looked very shy and would have blushed were it able to (instead it just squirmed and attempted to crawl under Arthur's tunic, for cover).

She _knew_! Arthur glowered at her and her smug smile. When did she find out? Did she even know or just pretend? If anyone would notice Merlin's absence, it'd be Morgana – but it had only been a day!

Though that red neckerchief might be a big giveaway. The stupid cat refused to let him take it off, so it stayed in place around the animal's neck. What was it with Merlin and neckerchiefs?

"What a surprise, Morgana," he said with faked enthusiasm and a heavy spoonful of sarcasm, "I had no idea you where interested in naming things. Have you been spending time with Geoffrey in the libraries again?"

"Arthur, do behave," the king rebuked. Nobody heard the cat's silent snickering.

()()()

"I swear, I've never had this trouble with any servant ever," Arthur ranted (again) as he settled the cat on the bed. He'd carried the creature all the way from the dining hall to his chambers – not that it was a gesture of kindness or anything like that. It was just the cat had been very tired and refusing to get out of his lap, therefore forcing him to carry it.

The cat didn't respond, merely cuddled into the fluffy pillows. So soft and thick now when he was so small, they were! There must be some way to make Arthur let him sleep here now when he was a cat. After all it was only fair. _He_ was the unlucky victim and deserved to be spoiled, unlike that prat, who got spoiled and bestowed with riches and luxury all the time without actually deserving it. It wasn't as if he had _actually_ been the one to kill the Griffin or the Questing Beast or faced down Nimueh at the Isle of the Blessed and saved his own life or revealed Valiant's plot or _any of those things_. He so owed Merlin a proper lie-in in a royal bed. (And a pay rise. Definitely. Preferably a promotion with that too. With pillows.)

"Oi! Get out of my bed! You're getting hair all over it," the prince exclaimed and waved his hands to shoo him away.

The cat stubbornly refused to move.

"Oh come on, _Mer_lin. I'm the prince and you got no right to be in there."

Merlin stood on all fours, for a moment it looked as if he would obey and get off, but he simply shifted position and settled higher up on the bed, tugging at the covers with his jaw now he had no hands (his paws didn't work, he tried but got no proper grasp) – Arthur stared in disbelief, jaw dropping, as the servant come cat simply and unfazed made himself comfortable.

"…You-! You think you can actually do that!" It was…outrageous!

He leaned down, not un-gently grasping the creature's sides to pick him up but Merlin protested suddenly wildly at that, squirming and yowling and clawing the air.

"All right, all right!" Arthur conceded. After all it was just an innocent cat. Even if it was his manservant. Oh this was getting confusing. "You can stay there and be all comfortable. Still, when you're back to normal I am so putting you into the stocks. I'll personally join the tomato throwers."

The cat looked at him a bit confused and, Arthur might even say, _hurt_, eyes shining slightly (though that might just be the candlelight) and puffed the prince's hand with its nose, like saying uncertainly 'You wouldn't really do that Arthur – would you?'

With a sigh, the prince changed to a nightshirt and, reluctantly, slipped into bed. The cat moved to the side a bit to avoid being crushed but once he lay there, Arthur found he actually didn't mind Merlin's presence so much.

"Just remember, this is a one night deal," he reminded the exasperating creature, "tomorrow you're _not_ going to sleep in here. Or any other night in the future for that matter. I'm fixing you a basket."

The cat said nothing, only snuggled contently into the prince's side.


	3. Arthur gets strangely possessive

**A Prince's best friend  
>Chapter 3: In which Arthur finds himself strangely possessive for some obscure reason<strong>

'_You snore a lot you know,'_ Merlin commented next morning, finding himself in a curled arm, quite safe with a husky scent of pure Arthur embedded in the sheets and pillows, the prince himself still deeply asleep. And it was also then he realized that his furry little body was _in_ _Arthur's arms_ in _Arthur's bed_ and he shot up, blushing – well, would be blushing, if the fur hadn't been in the way – out of the blonde's tender grip.

'_Oh my god, I slept with Arthur!'_ Merlin panickedly cried, err, yowled. In truth he wasn't really bothered by the fact itself of sleeping with Arthur (it was a rather, erm, nice thought actually); mostly he was scared of the man's reaction. It was one thing, expressing affection, like at dinner yesterday, stroking against the man's ankles or licking his nose (though that had been _a total accident_. Yes, honestly, an accident, like cat instincts taking over), but he doubted Arthur was happy with having hold him all night even as a cat, god, Arthur was going to have him put in the stocks for years, _oh_ _god_ _he'd_ _slept_ _with Arthur_! Yesterday night it hadn't seemed a bad idea at all, but now – _what would Arthur do when he found his manservant in his bed?_

"What are you doing in my bed?" Arthur asked when he woke up a few moments after these thoughts had made it through Merlin's head. The man looked down at him strangely. "Wait a minute – it wasn't a dream? Is it you?"

… He didn't seem so mad. Or upset.

Merlin sighed in relief.

Maybe he'd overreacted a bit there.

'_You mean me being a cat?_' Merlin asked carefully, slowly walking over Arthur's left leg to be able to move out of the large bed. It was both a relief and a disappointment to get away from Arthur, the man's body heat no longer radiating far enough for Merlin to feel it_. 'Yes, it's me.'_

"…I'd hoped it was a dream." Arthur scratched his neck and stretched his arms next, yawning. "What's that … smell? And there are cat hairs _everywhere_…!" He cast a look at the cat, though Merlin was unable to determine if it was angry, annoyed or something else. "Let's forget about it. I'm too tired for this." Arthur stood and began shuffling through his wardrobe. "…Before you got that accident of yours, did you manage to clean that red shirt and my favourite jacket?"

'_I knew there was something I forgot!'_ Merlin exclaimed. The prince heard only upset yowling, but guessed it meant No.

"Go fetch breakfast," he said to the cat instead while starting to pull on a blue shirt.

'_How am I supposed to do that?_' Merlin asked, confused.

Arthur didn't understand a word of that, naturally, but seemed to realize what the cat had meant to say. "Well, go on. Act…cute and pitiful or something," he advised, helpfully, and nudged the door open.

'_Gee, great, thanks. I don't even have hands you know, I can't carry a tray!'_

The kitten stuck out his tongue at the prince's back before leaving, missing Arthur's smirk.

()()()

Sara, head of the cooks, squealed in delight at the sight the kitten with uncertain wide eyes lingering in the doorway.

"Oh, look at you, sweet little thing!" she cooed at the kitten, leaning down and scratching his ear (surprisingly it wasn't as nice as when Arth—Uhm. _Moving on_.). "Do any of you recognize it?" Sara asked one of the maids who were present, preparing breakfast.

"I thought I saw it with Prince Arthur yesterday, but it could be just a stray cat," the girl said uncertainly. What if it really was the prince's pet which had wandered off and gotten lost? It'd mean no good, for them nor the cat. Prince Arthur had tendencies to be angry when he was (worried and) looking for things.

Merlin felt his stomach rumble and began to grow impatient, nudging the woman's ankles with his head trying his best 'pitiful and cute'-look.

"Another royal guest then, huh?" Sara said with a laugh. Had she know it wasn't a royal cat or even a cat she'd probably throw him out – she usually did, always annoyed when he came bumbling in, dropping trays and goblets and being in the way and whatnot. Now however she told the cat to wait and one of the staff prepared him some very nice creamy milk. He obeyed, bouncing excitedly on his pack paws upon the stone floor.

"There you go." A bowl was put before him.

_Arthur can get his own breakfast,_ Merlin thought. This was much nicer than having to struggle down the corridor with the prince's food. He was happy just sitting in a corner eating and observing the servants working, in peace, nobody attempting to kick him out or trip him. Occasionally a passerby would pat his head which wasn't too bad either. Nobody ever paid him that attention before, or at least it was rare that so many people were that kind to him. (They usually got irritated. He was so clumsy, they said, but hey he couldn't help that! All that tripping and breaking things just sort of _happened_…It was so unfair.)

Thus happy and relaxed he failed to notice the incoming footsteps and shouts ("Merlin, you idiot! Where've you run off to?") until it was too late and the door opened to the warm, slightly steamy room, revealing Arthur much to the cooks' surprise.

"Sire!" the woman exclaimed. "Can we help you, my lord?"

"You haven't happened to have seen—"

An unimpressed gaze landed on the creature in a corner, nose covered in milk. It didn't make a _single_ attempt to seem embarrassed, with Arthur found very…annoying.

"Never mind. Well, I'd like some breakfast," Arthur said, glaring warningly at Merlin.

"Of course sire. Bacon, eggs, bread fresh from the oven, some nice fresh fruit…" the cook babbled as she settled things on a plate and filled a goblet, she always got nervous around lords and ladies. "Where would you like it, sire?"

"I'll take it from here," Arthur said, once again surprising the staff. The prince rarely came here. In fact royalty and lords in general rarely came here, never to fetch their own breakfast – that's what servants were for. (To Merlin, it was a wonder the prince even knew where the kitchens were situated). The prince balanced the tray on one arm while grabbing the cat (it squealed loudly in protest) by the scruff of the neck before walking out.

"I said fetch breakfast i.e. come back to my room as quick as possible! God, how could you stand being in that hot room anyway?" Arthur muttered at the squirming creature as he walked down the hall. Some ten meters from the door he set Merlin down onto the floor. "Just follow me and don't run off. When you didn't come back you got me wo—thinking you'd gotten into trouble. Again."

'_You didn't let me finish eating,' _Merlin said gloomily, reluctantly trotting after his master. That bigheaded … clotpole. That cream had been so wonderful! Couldn't Arthur at least have let him finish that single plate? It'd been _heaven_ outright and he was starving. (Maybe being a cat wasn't so bad.) It was so _unfair_.

They passed the corridors and up some stairs back to the prince's chambers. They needed tidying: yesterday there'd been no servant there, and this morning Arthur had decided to throw out half of his wardrobe onto the bed and floor. (Clearly, he's still too young to dress himself properly.) Arthur sat by the table to eat, offering Merlin a piece of bacon, placing it onto a smaller plate he'd taken with him.

"I'd planned to go hunting today-" (Merlin groaned, honestly, why was the prince so obsessed with running after poor rabbits and deer all day, it was so _boring, _plus why did Arthur have to kill those innocent animals? It's not like he always ate them or hunted because he had to feed his family.) "-However, I think searching the libraries is a better idea. We got to find a solution to your…transformation. Pity there's no way of knowing what you're saying, so you can't tell what happened."

It had been a complete accident. He'd stayed up reading through his magical book (he'd noticed that sometimes, the pages seemed to swap, spells change, new ones appearing – it was rather difficult to find an earlier spell as it might have written itself onto another page), expanding his spell knowledge and vocabulary of the Old Religion's language. Once he fell asleep his head was filled with new curious things which he repeated to not forget and must have had a slip of tongue – and magic – because when he woke up, he had four legs and fur and tail.

Not that he could in any way tell Arthur that. Then he _would_ get hanged/burned/have his head chopped off, cat or no. Or at least get into some very deep, deep serious trouble.

()()()

Geoffrey.

Was not pleased.

(And like Morgana a bit scary, though in a more old-senile-distrustful-man kind of way.)

But Arthur was the prince and princes are used getting what they want. He refused to budge and with Merlin loyally following on his heels, he made his way deeper into the library. Gaius had given some directions of what to look for.

Merlin glanced nervously at the broom leaning against Geoffrey's desk now and then. Just in case. Who knew what the old man could do when Arthur turned his back…

The day proceeding wasn't that bad. It turned out, after a while of reading, Arthur wasn't complaining much (the "Gods how many books are there really in here!" and "Merlin, stop jumping around, you're going to break something" subsided) but he kept calling the warlock 'stupid' or another fitting adjective.

Every time they thought they found something, they'd jump out of their seats; Arthur calling out and Merlin yowling. But all solutions would require magic, Arthur soon summarized. And they couldn't do magic. Even if they could or found someone who could, who'd dare use sorcery right in the palace? (Arthur wasn't even going to ask how come there were so many ancient, magic-related books in this library. His father probably didn't come down here often to read. Maybe he didn't know about them all. Oh, the secret were everywhere.)

"We need to find a sorcerer," the prince murmured lowly, glancing down the aisle but Geoffrey didn't raise his head from the paperwork or whatever he was doing.

'_Found one,'_ Merlin said. He leapt up the prince's lap and leaned over the table, scanning the page opened. There was a spell! His heart filled with joy. Now, he only had to memorize it and use it when Arthur wasn't looking.

"How the hell are we going to do that?" Arthur continued, oblivious, tapping at the ancient words which he couldn't read, the script unfamiliar. "Who'd aid Camelot using _magic_?"

'_Oh I don't know, some warlock out there, maybe, somewhere, who is crazy enough,'_ Merlin said. Trying to convey what he was feeling - relief and happiness at having being presented a solution even if Arthur was rather dumb about it - Merlin stood on his hind legs with paws on Arthur's chest for support, and licked the man's chin.

"Now what is it?" Arthur demanded. "Don't tell me you're hungry. The servant came with food just half an hour ago."

'_I'm thanking you,'_ Merlin clarified.

"Never mind. You sure you're all right? The being-a-cat-thing must be getting to your head."

Merlin cast a last look at the spell – it was rather long and complicated and he if he said the slightest word wrong, things might turn even worse. He had to memorize it exactly right. Luckily he'd gotten rather good at that by now.

_I'll try it tonight,_ he decided.

For some reason, maybe subconsciously, Arthur didn't try to throw him off his lap a single time during the rest of the stay, idly turning through a couple of more books before lunch.

()()()

Waiting for nightfall had never been this long. Time crawled forward. Arthur insisted on staying a bit longer in the libraries, but they were forced to leave when Uther called for him by lunchtime, wanting to share a meal with him.

Merlin, naturally, followed.

Uther, strangely, wasn't displeased this time. He allowed him to stay and eat without scolding him or Arthur, even treated him _nicely_, which was an odd look on the man's face - Merlin wasn't used to see him smile. When the king had petted his head, though, Merlin had been slightly petrified.

Morgana, sweetly, _cooed_ at him and insisted to have him seated on a tower of pillows atop a chair to be able to at the same level as the table, where she had asked a servant to place a bowl of milk and a plate with some meat (even Uther's suggestion of giving the cat some of yesterday's leftovers was quieted; Morgana seemingly wanted to serve the creature only the best). Merlin had a sense she knew who he was, that he wasn't an ordinary cat. He seated upon the pillows though he'd liked it better to be in Arthur's lap; Morgana was a scary woman, it was best to please her.

Arthur tended to glare at her a lot, also, which gave him a clue. That look – Arthur gave it to Morgana whenever she knew or did something she wasn't supposed to.

All in all, the meal was delicious and people were strangely nice to him though they scared him a bit. It was almost a pity he'd never be able to enjoy such a good meal again. That was, if he succeeded the spell tonight.

"I'm going to go train with my knights. You may follow if you like, but stay out of the way when we're fighting," Arthur said afterwards, walking toward the armory and stretching a bit. "It wouldn't do to have you hurt in some stupid accident."

'_Are you __**worried**__ about me?_' Merlin asked, incredulous. _'I wish you'd act more like this when I'm human.'_

()()()

The field was swarming with people: knights at the centre, by-passers and servants in the sidelines, stopping by to watch. It was quite impressive, the knights' warm-up and moves and swishing of swords. At least when you've not seen it seven hundred times before. Which Merlin has.

Merlin curled up on the table next to a tent near the stone wall, where some weaponry was laid out, to take a nap. For a while he watched through half-lidded eyes the knights fighting, especially Arthur. His wound from the Questing Beast had healed now and he was back at full strength. That poor knight … what was his name – sir Bedivere? ... didn't stand a chance.

Quite quickly though, Merlin lost interest in the fights themselves, enjoying just watching Arthur's powerful moves and the sunlight shining in his hair until sometime his eyes slid shut and, without knowing how, he was asleep.

()()()

"Move your feet! For heaven's sake you're not made of wood!" Arthur shouted impatiently at the young knight who couldn't do two things at the same time. The newcomer had just managed, by the second, to last one minute against Arthur in battle and thus been accepted to training – it was with difficulty the young man could lift his sword and move his feet at the same time. Give him a shield and his coordination was totally lost. "Move them, I said! Don't just stand there!"

Bedivere was down four seconds later.

"Go and spar with Leon. And think of your feet, your position! If you're not movable, you will not be able to dodge a blow or win a fight."

"Yes…yessire," the man said, gasping for air.

Arthur found himself a bit distracted. He glanced toward the table by the end of the field every ten minutes to make sure the cat hadn't run off. But when facing someone like Bedivere, it hadn't been much of a trouble.

About one and a half hour later, training was finished. It was warm sunny day and the men bathed in sweat, their armours heavy and arms aching. Some gathered their things and left, others decided to take off the outer layer of their armours and chain-mails, and sit down by the edge of the field where the wall shadowed the grass, to cool off.

Which was when they noticed the cat.


	4. The knights gets significant

**A Prince's best friend  
>Chapter 4: In which the knights aren't insignificant background characters anymore<strong>

Merlin awoke to voices and something stroking his back and scratching his ears. Was it time to leave already? Or was Arthur attempting to annoy him or something? Because it definitely didn't annoy him, on the contrary it was really ... really nice. He opened his eyes, purring – it was pleasant to wake this way – then he startled as he at first couldn't register where he was and, more importantly, it wasn't actually _Arthur_ who was scratching his ears. He could recognize sir Leon and sir Bors pretty well, but was so unprepared at seeing them that he fell off the table.

Which, in turn, was incredibly embarrassing. Cats don't just fall off tables like that. He hated being so clumsy.

"Hey, do any of you recognize that cat?" sir Bors asked the other knights.

"I think it's the prince's. I saw the two yesterday evening walking down the halls, and then the kitchen staff mentioned it shared dinner with the prince and the king yesterday…and lunch this morning," one of them, a brown haired man, answered.

"Been hanging around the kitchen girls again, Gareth?" snickered a third.

"You're no one to talk, Gwaine."

Sir Leon rolled his eyes. "If the prince could hear you two…! Flirting away with some innocent girls when you should have better things to do."

"Well right now he's probably too busy yelling at his manservant to scold us for that. I wonder where he is, by the way, that boy; haven't seen him all morning. Usually the prince always gives him lots of errands to run all across town."

Merlin rolled onto his feet, curious. The knights were talking about him? He wondered if they used to talk about him before, and blushed. They probably made fun of him, yeah... He was after all a servant. He hadn't thought they paid him any heed at all though!

"Poor sod. Can't imagine what it's like having to work for Arthur all the time, constantly being there at his beck and call. It'd drive me insane for sure. That man's temper and stubbornness. Training with him a couple of hours each day is hard enough!" sir Gareth exclaimed, making some other knights laugh, and sir Leon scowl.

Leon was one of the oldest knights, one of the best fighters, incredibly loyal and also Arthur's step-in commander. The knight wholly respected the prince and though he seemed kind, at least what Merlin had seen of him, he also was sensitive when the other knights offended the prince or said anything the slightest inappropriate.

"Oh loosen up, Leon," sir Gareth said and slapped the other man's arm. "We're just feeling sorry for the boy."

Merlin immediately liked this man. He seemed very kind and not at all like he looked like (he was tall, muscled and over-all had a very rough look which in the past always unsettled Merlin a bit, he looked like he had a short fuse). Now however he dared to inch closer to the group of knights. They all appeared much, much nicer now than he'd imagined them to be. As a servant, he didn't have the chance to mingle with them.

"Oh, hey there," Gareth said to the cat (_Does he usually address animals like that?_ Merlin wondered) and patted his head. "That was quite a fall." The man examined the cat for some marking or collar, but there was only a read piece of cloth around the cat's neck. "Not hurt are you, clumsy little one?"

_I wonder when Arthur will decide to drag me out of here_, Merlin thought as he – without being able to help it – leaned into the man's hand, rubbing an ear against the warm palm. ('Clumsy little one?' How fortunate the knights had no idea who he was. Facing them after this would be incredibly embarrassing if they kept calling him that.)

"What's your name?" the knight asked kindly.

"You know, talking to animals is not considered healthy by the general population and can make you incredibly misunderstood," sir Gwaine – who looked a bit like sir Gareth, maybe they were siblings – pointed out.

"Ignore him," sir Gareth advised and continued to the pet the cat, which crawled up to settle in the grass between him and sir Bors.

"Wonder who its owner is?" said knight mused aloud.

"I have a feeling…" sir Leon muttered, and Merlin looked up, confused, as a voice came nearer and a shadow began to creep closer. Arthur was stalking across the field. He'd removed his chainmail, wearing a simple tunic, but his hair still needed to be combed.

"Sire," sir Leon greeted. "Do you recognize this animal, maybe?"

The prince's eyes narrowed, hadn't he told Merlin to stay away from the knights? Well, if he hadn't he should have – he realized that if Merlin socialized too much with outsiders,_ if_ the spell on him suddenly just lifted, the servant was at risk. Gaius had mentioned that there were spells that would eventually just wear off, and if this was the case, Merlin could turn into a full (naked) human and Arthur did not fancy that happening anywhere around the knights.

"In fact I do," he said. "It has a tendency of…running off."

'_Do not! What are you implying anyway?'_ Merlin defended himself and rolled partly onto his back so he could see Arthur better, though the angle was odd. Sir Gareth immediately began to scratch his belly. Oh, that was nice!

"Have you named it yet or can I do it, sire?" sir Gareth asked, almost _hopefully_.

Arthur rolled his eyes at the man's childishness. Who could believe such a giant had a trait like that? "Just call him Idiot and he'll come running," he said teasingly, testing how the cat would react.

Merlin was too occupied when Gareth began to wave his index finger in front of the cat's nose to care, suddenly his whole animal mind set on hunting the offending digit – much to Arthur's disappointment. He hated being ignored, but especially by Merlin. The boy should always have his full attention on him! He was the prince, his master, damn it! Merlin shouldn't just ignore him and enjoy a knight's company more than him. No! Merlin should definitely not just lie there, playing like that, with a knight, cat or not! Hadn't the idiot understood yet that he was to stay with Arthur and nobody else, now he was a cat?

The cat's happy expression…The knight's finger. Merlin's bloody disrespectful ignoring of _him_. The prince.

It wasn't _acceptable_.

"Oh, lay that off, Merlin, you look ridiculous."

He hadn't meant to slip like that: irritation simply formed his words, something nagging at the bottom of his stomach at seeing his servant like that, and when he spoke it was too late, the words rolled naturally off his tongue.

"Merlin?" asked Gwaine, frowning. His gaze found the cat which stirred at the name, suddenly losing attention of the finger (it must be hunting instincts or something: it was addictive!). Sir Gareth was doing the waving motion with his finger unconsciously, looking at the prince strangely.

"That's…your servant's name isn't it?" sir Bors asked.

Arthur had named his cat after his servant?

The knight looked at the prince and then at the cat and then the non-existent servant and came to a conclusion pretty quickly. It was a strange, unbelievable conclusion of course.

The other knights did too. "Your servant…" sir Gwaine said slowly, "…that cat…?"

Merlin nudged the prince's ankle_. 'I think they're onto me, Arthur.'_

Of course he wasn't expecting an answer. Understandably, he was astounded when he was given one.

The knights and Arthur blanched visibly, unable to hide the shock. Merlin looked at the knights a bit confused, and they looked back at him wide-eyed.

"You talk!" Arthur exclaimed, gaping at him like a fish.

'_You…you understand me!'_ the warlock said, shocked. _How?_ he wondered. Was the spell beginning to wear off? Or was there another reason? He better talk with Gaius as soon as possible…

"Gah!" Gareth jumped. "The—the cat **talked**!"

'_How can you understand me?' _How embarrassing that the knights were looking at him like that, especially Gareth, after having seen him in such a cat-mode just a couple of moments ago…(But it were instincts! Yes. Instincts. Not his fault… or anything like that.) They'd look at him oddly forever. Yes, awkward was the word.

"Sire? Is that … _your_ _servant_?" Gwaine asked, apparently forcing himself to talk slowly: he had a tendency to babble when startled.

The knights realized that the prince mustn't have been able to communicate with the cat – err, servant – until now either. And even more shocked as realization dawned on them: the cat was really Arthur's servant, formerly a human being, and vice versa. It wasn't a ploy, it was for _real_.

Arthur exhaled, inhaled. He felt rather sane – he wasn't hearing things. Merlin had really talked. Well, there went the plan of hiding the servant's condition. "Yes. Unfortunately. And I'm telling you, all of you, if a _single_ _word_ of this slips and reaches my father…" The threat was left hanging in the air.

Merlin tried to make himself invisible, or at least insignificant, behind the prince's left boot. The look Gareth was giving him was unsettling.

"But why!" Leon exclaimed, raising his voice a bit. "It's obvious he must've been enchanted, if what you are saying is true! A sorcerer in the city! We must warn-"

"I am looking into it myself. But, I doubt we are actually under a magical attack. If we were, why has there been two days now and still nothing more happening? Why has only a servant been affected and no one else?" Arthur said. "There has been no disturbances whatsoever except for this."

Gwaine thought over the words, and nodded. "You do have a point, sire. But things like this just don't happen on accident."

Arthur's face darkened. "I know."

"Are we simply going to hide him?" Gareth asked, genuinely concerned about the servant's well-being. And, in his mind at least, unwillingly being a cat wasn't being especially _well_. "What if he stays like this **forever**?"

'_Umm…how is it that you understand me?_' Merlin wondered out loud. He just didn't _feel_ like he was talking any normal human language, if that made any sense.

"I can sort of hear you in my head," Arthur said, kneeling down next to the cat. Usually he wouldn't do such a thing, but now he was simply overcome with surprise and a bit of relief, a wonderful tingle spreading through his veins. Now he could finally ask if Merlin was all right and find out who did this, what happened. "How did this happen? Did someone use a spell on you?"

'_I, uh, ah…'_ Shit! He wasn't good at this lying stuff! _'I just fell asleep as normal. When I woke up last morning I just felt different and lo and behold! I found I had a tail.' _He had freaked out quite a bit, but there was no need to tell that. He didn't want to be laughed at.

"So you didn't notice anything wrong before that? No one stalking you or anything?" Arthur asked concernedly. This sorcerer was really good and hiding both themselves and their motives. A strange kind of ire rose within him too: using magic an innocent man, a boy! Who'd dare to attack _his_ servant like this? When Arthur found out and got them arrested, he'd…he'd…

'_Nope. Nothing unordinary,'_ Merlin said._ 'I just went about my business as usual and served Ar- prince Arthur, then helped out Gaius who needed some stuff from the market … Nothing strange or unexpected happened.'_

The prince sighed, rubbing his neck, while the knights filled the silence. "I can hear you too," sir Gareth reported. "It looks like you're yowling or something, but I hear words in my mind." He didn't say anything about the fact that the servant had just a few minutes earlier played, like the animal he was, with his finger. It was too odd, really, to mention without embarrassing the poor servant. Plus he'd called him clumsy little one. But, it was a catchy nickname come think of it … (and Merlin was rather clumsy. Even knights who didn't see the servant that much knew that. Arthur complained sometimes a lot.)

Gareth, like his brother and the rest of the gathered knights, noticed how tended the prince acted, how worried he seemed. He really was caring much more about that servant than he let on.

Gareth had open eyes and ears: he'd noticed it months before, the prince and servant's relationship which was true friendship. They bickered a lot and Arthur rarely spoke fondly of Merlin, but Merlin was incredibly loyal and brave, standing up against Arthur and always coming with him even when there were fights. A bit stupid maybe, but Arthur always protected him.

Plus, there was an odd…convenience how lucky the servant was. During that first time he met the prince and they fought at the market, the boy had lasted well over a minute (had he been royal, Arthur would have accepted him to knights' training on the spot) and so stubborn, getting away with just a couple of bruises. And that was a lot better than some _knights_ did against Arthur. Then later on, there had been those arrows flown astray, falling branches right on bandits or on their path, and the _stumbles_ – Arthur never stumbled before Merlin stepped into the picture!

So, sir Gareth had long since figured there was something more, something _special_ about this boy. He also liked the boy immensely; his soul seemed so pure, selfless and loyal. Bravery and kindness like that was hard to find. With no doubt, sir Gareth could say that the boy would serve and help Arthur always, do anything to keep the prince out of danger. As a servant following his master on dangerous missions not even armed was just stupid, but Merlin always did it anyway and survived without a single scrape. He was very lucky, yes. (Or, the knight suspected, there might be more than just _luck_.)

There was indeed something extraordinary about the boy.

"Without knowing who or what placed this spell on him, how can we know how to reverse it?" sir Bors asked the prince.

"I have been trying to find a solution in the old library – there must be something there – but every time I came upon something, it looked like another spell which would require a sorcerer."

"And any magical man or woman would be mad to enter Camelot at free will," sir Gareth murmured.

For some reason, Merlin winced.

"How many others know of this…transformation, if I may ask, sire?" That was sir Leon. He was a practical man and would, rather than speculating uselessly, analyze a problem and try finding sensible solutions (difficult when dealing with magic, of course – how were they to reverse this?). And if they did not want the king to find out, they must hide this well.

"The four of you, the court physician – he is Merlin's guardian, so I could simply not hide it from him – and I suspect Morgana knows…She has this cunning look of hers. I ought to seek her out and question her. She always sees more than she should."

"A dangerous lady, I agree," sir Gwaine said heartily to which a couple of knights nodded (sir Leon glared again, like wanting 'defend the lady's honour' or the like) and Merlin agreed quietly. Not that he disliked Morgana or anything – the opposite, he liked her a lot, but she could scary at the same time with that cunning look.

"Do you think the enchantment might, you know, fade in time?" sir Gareth asked curiously.

"I don't know. I hope so, if we cannot find a solution ourselves. Merlin, you hang around Gaius a lot, perhaps he's ever said anything about magic fading?"

'_Uhm, yeah, I think it's possible.'_ Though he'd read about it in his magic book, not heard from Gaius. Not that he could tell Arthur that though. _'Maybe we just might wait and see.'_

"I can't have my servant being a bloody cat!" Arthur muttered. "Any idea how long it might take then?"

'_No idea.'_

"At least you're not unable to speak anymore…it could mean that whatever magic has been used on you, it's starting to wear off. Good. Just make sure you don't speak by mistake. I don't want any commoners running to my father in frenzy about having seen a talking cat."

'_No problem. I'll be silent as a mouse.'_

Bors stifled a laugh. The air didn't seem as tense anymore.

"Oh, if I'll live to see the day when you acquire the skill of such stealth," Arthur said mockingly.

'_Hey! What's that supposed to mean? I can be silent when I want to. I can. Honest!'_

"Just like you are a natural hunter. You've been _outwitted_ by a _rat_," the prince reminded him smugly.

Merlin would've pouted if he could, but his facial muscles just didn't obey him correctly._ 'It…it was a smart rat!'_

"Sure it was," Arthur said, but his face had softened, especially around the eyes and he was amusedly smiling down at the affronted cat. The knights saw how he looked at the creature rather fondly without noticing it himself. Ah, what a sign, such obliviousness: they were still a step ahead of the prince when it came to his feelings.

Gwaine grinned, exchanging a knowing look with his brother. _Wonder if Merlin's noticed yet?_

()()()

"I was beginning to wonder if you _ever_ were going to tell me," Morgana sidled in later that afternoon, conveniently appearing in the doorway when Arthur had hoped she'd be busy elsewhere. "I am after all like a sister to you, Arthur dear."

"Tell you what, Morgana?" Arthur asked rather tiredly. His knights had had endless questions. It had been bothersome having to ward _them_ off of Merlin. The men had suddenly become so…grabby. It was a bit odd, to be honest, but Arthur was aware that the knights used to talk about his manservant after training. It was almost like an obsession, kind of, but it'd not really bothered him until now. Until now, when Merlin had such soft fur and a tendency to let the men scratch behind his ears when only Arthur should be allowed to do that.

"Gwen was really worried when hearing that Merlin has this terrible contagious disease," the lady continues. "Have you been overworking the poor boy again, Arthur? Why, I am disappointed with you."

That look in her eyes. On her _face_.

It made Arthur's neck burn uncomfortably.

"I've not overworked him!" he exclaimed hotly. "Not _any of the sort_! What do you want anyway? Leave me alone – go comb your hair or whatever you usually do."

Conveniently enough, as a cat rolling around on the floor playing with an old pair of boots which weren't used anymore (they were the only items Arthur allowed him to claw at), Merlin could listen to everything the pair said without being paid heed to. Though his play faltered when hearing Gwen was concerned for him, he didn't want one of his friends to worry and he knew that Gwen was a bit overprotective. Well, he'd fix this tonight wouldn't he? He'd wake up as a human, come up with some lie as to how it happened and everything would be back to normal.

"As long as you're not abusing your position, I'm happy. Although there are some people who would need to be given a _clue_, now and then." Morgana gave that small dangerous smile to the prince. "But Merlin's illness isn't that bad is it? I wished I'd be able to visit him, to soothe Gwen's heart."

"He'll recover, but Gaius forbids anyone to see him," Arthur replied curtly.

"Oh really. What then is he doing on your floor?"

"…What? He—he's not in this room and clearly not on my floor!"

"Do not think of me as stupid, Arthur," the woman snickered. She knelt next to the cat, which _didn't_ try and run away. "I'm here to help, you know. So, what happened? How did you gain four legs, Merlin?"

'_I dunno,'_ Merlin said feebly, a bit uncomfortable with the lady so up close. She must have heard him just like the knights and Arthur; the look on her usually guarded face revealed surprise.

"I'll help you solve this," Morgana promised.

All since the Ealdor incident – no, all since the Mordred incident – the lady had been strangely kind to him. Merlin didn't really mind, especially not now. He was sure she wouldn't turn him to the king for magic, at least not when it came to cats. Maybe he could one day reveal his magic to her? And Arthur. He didn't want to hide it too much longer…But first things first. First, he'd turn back into a human. Then he'd think about good ways to reveal secrets without having people overreacting (though, with Arthur it'd be difficult to do so).

"I guess we could use an extra pair of hands," Arthur admitted, begrudgingly.

'_Thanks, milady, I really appreciate it,'_ Merlin said. He wanted to be out of this fur as soon as possible.

Morgana hid a smile. She would help them solve this magical malady: but also another, more deeply rooted _bother_ which she was positive the both males suffered. They were just too stubborn (at least Arthur was) to admitting such a thing, burying themselves in denial. But she would bring their feelings to light. This was a golden opportunity (especially since she had both Gwen _and_ the knights on her side). Now she needed to make a _real_ plan and set it into action.

Merlin was still looking up at her but couldn't guess what was running through her cunning mind.

"I better get going," she said and stood. "We mustn't make Uther suspicious. Remember, you can't hide anything from me, Arthur Pendragon!"

With the beautiful layers of her dress swishing soundly, she was out of the door. Merlin shifted his gaze to the prince.

'_What did she mean by that last bit?'_ he asked curiously.

Arthur looked like he was lying when he said, "I've no idea."

()()()

"Are you sure we shouldn't tell the king?" Bors asked Gareth as they headed toward the inn. After having seen a talking cat he felt like he needed something refreshing.

"I'll follow the prince's lead. And if he says we hide it, we hide it."

"Are you not just saying that because you like scratching Merlin's ears?"

"Stop bothering me about it. I just happen to like the boy, that's all."

"Yes," Gwaine chimed in, "he is very endearing. I understand your tastes completely, brother. Clumsy little one – did he really understand you when you said that? He must be positively terrified of you by now. You were rather…grabby, craving for his attention, you know."

"It-it's not like that! I'd never-!" Gareth stuttered ashamed at having Gwaine even suggest that he'd try and force the boy into anything like that. He'd never take advantage of his status in such a manner, especially not with a naïve youngster (who clearly had eyes for someone else). Gwaine and his dirty mind…!

"Of course not, not when our dear prince has got his eyes set on him," Gwaine grinned. "Honestly, have any of you ever seen a more oblivious couple?"

"Gwaine!" Bors admonished (they hadn't even begun drinking yet!).

"Well it's true, isn't it?" the other man smirks, teeth glinting. "The boy is always more than loyal and constantly overstepping his bounds, but the prince never abandon him or punishes him more than putting him in the stocks now and then. And the prince is so ignorant - I can't believe they haven't spoken about it! I mean, honestly. Look at them. And the glares the prince sent when he saw you with CLO, Gareth." He nudged his brother's side with an elbow. "He looked ready to eat you alive and throw you in a pit of burning oil. Jealousy personified."

"And what do you mean, CLO?"

"From now on I shall only refer to Merlin the cat as CLO - clumsy little one (oh don't be embarrassed, it's your idea of a nickname, brother!). Otherwise it's too confusing."

"You are sidling with lady Morgana," Gareth realized.

"Naturally." The man was grinning like a child in glee.

His brother squinted at him, suspicious. "What are you up to?"

Gwaine made a zipping motion over his lips. "Not telling yet. You'll see soon enough!"

"Why did I agree to accompany you two to the tavern?" Bors moaned half a step behind them. He should have gone straight to bed.


	5. Morgana and her minions' wicked plots

**A prince's best friend  
>Chapter 5: In which Morgana and Her Minions' Wicked, Strange Plots starts to surface<strong>

'_Hi Gaius. It's been awhile, sorry I haven't come to see you earlier,' _Merlin said as he hopped onto the table.

The physician was leaning over a book, but looked up at the sudden noise. "Wha… Merlin! You can speak!"

'_Yes, I noticed that just about an hour ago.'_ He saw that Eyebrow Look again. _'Yes, yes, I'm being careful! I haven't made a noise around anyone except Arthur…and, ummm… the knights Bors, Leon, Gareth and Gwaine. But no one else, I swear!'_

"The knights? They know?"

'_Yes, but it'll work out fine, don't worry. They won't tell anyone…Well, umm, Morgana knows too but she keeps it a secret. But I've found a spell that (I think) can turn me back to normal!'_

"You have? Thank heavens. But Merlin, how come you are in this state? Be honest with me, please."

'_It was an accident! I was just looking through my magic book the other day, you know in case I found something useful for the future, and I guess…I fell asleep, I must've had some spell stuck on my mind and using my magic in my sleep – and you know the rest.'_

"You have to consider stopping to read that book before going to bed, then. I do not want anything like this happening again. Using such powerful magic in your sleep…" The old man rubbed is temples. (_What ever should I do with you, Merlin? Such aching troubles to worry this old soul. Young ones… _What his heart went through for the young warlock's sake.) "You must be careful."

Merlin didn't want to be lectured so he announced, _'I'm going to try and change back now.'_ and jumped off the table, to the center of the room. Gaius quickly closed the door and covered all windows, while the warlock started gathering his magic, hoping it wouldn't malfunction. Quietly he began to chant the words he'd imprinted earlier that day, ancient words which rolled easily off his tongue.

To his disappointment, when he opened his eyes again, nothing had happened. Nothing appeared to happen for several minutes, either. No swirling lights or sounds or anything. Gaius muttered something darkly and began looking through his books and scrolls again, some of which were really dusty and looked like they'd been borrowed from the library.

Merlin tried again. He could clearly feel the surge of magic in his veins and then the air around him, but there wasn't a single movement, not a speck of light, no change whatsoever in his form. Paws, tail, ears and fur remained as he continued to sit there on the floor, waiting.

After the fifth or sixth time he just had to give up.

'_Maybe it wasn't the correct spell…Maybe there's something else out there.'_

Gaius nodded in agreement. "I have searched and found several interesting things, but no spell seems to match our desires. This one for example," he patted one of the texts lying before him, "would turn the spell-caster into their _earliest_ original state, in other words a newborn child. (I am not going to babysit you.) This one helps to remove unusual diseases …though I doubt this can be labeled an illness. Another spell requires a rite with a pair of hare-feet, the hair of a troll and some old runes (this sounds really interesting!) and three people casting the spell, to shift people's appearances – it sounds rather useful (pity we don't have any trolls around) … But try not to worry too much, Merlin. I'll continue to search."

'_Thanks Gaius,'_ Merlin said, feeling much gloomier than since being turned into a cat. When finding that spell he'd been _really_, really hopeful and his steps much lighter, now it felt like a bunch of rocks had suddenly been dumped on him. What was he going to do now?

The dragon…Could he talk to it? He'd sworn not to speak to it again, since its advice almost killed his mother, but…He needed help. The dragon was old and wise, it probably knew a spell or something. It maybe had magic enough to reverse his state fully. Should he do it?

It was rather nice to be a cat, with the attention and the food, but as a cat he couldn't protect the prince. And he had to be able to protect Arthur.

That settled it. He couldn't solve this on his own, and he'd rather not be sorry about being too late to protect Arthur if danger arose. He had to go to the dragon.

'_I suppose I should go back to Arthur…'_ Merlin said to Gaius_. 'He gets all angry whenever I wander off on my own. Like I'm some baby who can't look after myself. Stupid prat, who is it that can't look after himself, not even dress himself properly?'_

The physician smiled oddly. "I'm sure. Go to him. I'll see what I can find."

()()()

The look on the dragon's face as he stepped down into the cave…! Merlin would never forget it.

Despite of swearing not to speak to it again, he decided to come down here: now he regretted it. The dragon had been about to probably berate him or something for coming, but paused at the sight of him.

Kilgarrah laughed. For a long sound echoed against the rocky walls, startling at first since the warlock wasn't used to hearing him laugh; actually he couldn't recall the dragon being amused enough to make such a sound before, except that first time they met. After sometime, though, Merlin rolled his eyes. Honestly, the dragon had such a breath…It'd been laughing nonstop for two minutes.

'_It's not funny,'_ Merlin the cat whined, annoyed_. _Being this tiny was gave real disadvantage when facing an at least 30 feet tall beast that can breathe fire (especially since his magic malfunctioned); normally he felt small but now he was almost breaking his neck by craning it so much to be able to look at the dragon's face. Frustrating was the word. And the dragon's _laugh_. Did it have to laugh so much? His predicament wasn't _that_ amusing.

'_Can you help me turn back into a human? I've tried a spell, but it didn't work.'_

"Young warlock," the great (to normal people intimidating but to Merlin annoying) creature said once his laughter had died. "Oh it is amusing. _It is_."

(Some more chuckling inserted here.)

Merlin had an urge to throttle someone.

'_Come on! Please, you got to help me. How can I fulfill my destiny and protect Arthur as a cat?'_

The dragon chuckled some more, then coughed, getting more serious as Arthur and Destiny was mentioned. The words had that kind of effect on him.

"But you are right, young warlock, of course. Your powers are both restricted and chaotic in this form."

'_So how do I get back to normal?'_

"Remember: for the coin has two sides and neither can exist without the other, the night cannot be without the day. Thus you will need the other half's aid to become whole again. The magic which has struck you has a strong, deep core and forcing it all away will be intricate, indeed. More so than you can now realize. Willpower is also very necessary!"

'_...How do you mean? Arthur's going to make me normal, how? I don't—'_

"With these tools you will return to your old self at the prince's side, and fulfill your destiny." With that, the dragon spread his wings and lifted from the outcropping, chain clinkering as Kilgarrah flew out of sight.

'_Hey! Wait!'_

But the dragon didn't answer.

'_Well that was helpful,'_ Merlin muttered. _'Coins, halves…I need a spell or something! How can Arthur help me? He doesn't have any magic…And what was that about willpower? That was rather new though…could that help me? EXPLAIN WHAT I GOT TO DO, PLEASE!'_

But his voice had returned: did this mean Arthur had helped him in some way with one step to return back to normal? Like when the prince hid him from the king and they searched together for a cure? What did this mean…? The dragon was so bloody cryptic. Merlin hated all those riddles. Couldn't Kilgarrah speak plainly just for once?

()()()

"No. Wait. I've changed my mind," Bors said pushing himself and the chair he sat upon away from the table.

In front of him were two other knights, a lady and her handmaiden. It was late evening, the dark had started to fall, and the odd group was gathered around a table in the corner of a dank tavern, each nursing a drink. Some of them had had more than _one_ drink, while Gwen, the handmaiden, nervously sat there without drinking anything at all. The revelation of the servant-turned-cat was just a couple of hours old.

Gwaine had already had time to think, make up something, and chatter with Morgana about it, and drag them all to the tavern.

Gareth was not surprised. Well a bit about the lady herself and her handmaiden, Guinevere if he remembered correctly, being there in person.

"Come on! It'll be fun." Oh yes, 'fun'. Gwaine flashed a smug grin: "Besides, you have already sworn secrecy."

"We'll be disowned, thrown out of the city and banished if this goes wrong. Possibly executed due to the prince's mere wrath. Should we really ki-?" Bors began to say but Gwaine cut him off.

"Shh, it's supposed to be a secret."

"Not much longer," Gareth mumbled, sighing on his breath, before turning back to his brother. "I still feel doubtful about this. It doesn't feel…right on the poor boy."

"We have to gain a reaction from the prince! What other way is there to do it?" Gwaine exclaimed, slapping the table. "It's a perfect opportunity, and we won't actually hurt anyone."

"What if we get seen?"

Gwaine looked at him like he'd grown another head. "We are knights, brother dear. We answer to the king and the prince. No guard would remark about it: they won't bother; we have more authority than them. We'll mask ourselves of course so the prince can't recognize us. Don't worry. It'll work out _perfectly_."

"Moreover," lady Morgana shot in, "you have me on your side. Do not worry, gentlemen, Uther won't suspect a thing."

Gwen glanced at her mistress and friend. "They have denied it for such a long time; we have to make prince Arthur make a move. Merlin wouldn't dare…I think, I mean, he's very shy about the whole thing and refuses to admit anything…whenever I talk to him, that is…" She blushed a bit, realizing she was babbling again. To her defense it was nervous to sit with some high-status knights and speak of plans more-or-less against (well, not really _against_ against) the Crown Prince of Camelot.

"I still think this is a bad idea," Bors said, bemoaning his bad luck at ending up agreeing to listening to the plan in the first place and getting dragged into this mess, bemoaning his ill choice of friends. Oh yes he should never, ever had gone to the tavern with the two brothers, he should have gone home and written a letter to his mother and vented his anguish.

Gwaine was grinning like a maniac (so typical). Gareth wondered if the lady Morgana had perhaps bribed him with food, fine wine, gold or something else to get him to agree. On second thoughts, maybe not. The man had been gushing over the prince and servant like a girl for months (well, maybe…hmm, not quite like a _girl_, but like a _fan_girl, always yammering about _them _a.k.a the Prince of Camelot and His Manservant Who Were Probably With High Possibility In Love with Each Other and How To Get Them Together which was a bit ridiculous to all the other knights.) Which Gareth found both amusing and annoying. But Gwaine hadn't put any plans into action to get them together until now.

Bors buried his face in his hands, despairing. Arthur was going to _have their heads._

A deal was a deal though. They're knights and have sworn upon this pact, and a knight cannot be so dishonourable that they pull out of it.

()()()

For a moment Merlin hesitated: should he really go back to Arthur's chambers? He'd planned to spend the night on his own rooms. But now the spell had failed, and he was still a cat, he didn't feel so keen on returning to Gaius, and sleeping alone.

He was still a cat, so what harm could it do? He might as well use this time while he still had it. The prince didn't protest anymore when he acted cuddly, and it _was_ really nice to lie next to Arthur. The man's warm husky presence was always so _safe_. (He'd have to admit, he'd miss being able to be so close to Arthur once he got back to normal.)

Plus, what the dragon had said had made him think: if Arthur's presence and help could make him normal, he'd spend all the time it took near Arthur's side even if the prince got all obnoxious and condescending.

Merlin continued down the hallway, when suddenly, this strange feeling came over him. Like he was being watched. Cautiously, with sharp eyes, he looked left, right, over his shoulder. The corridor was dark and shadowed, but he had some kind of night-vision as a cat: the colours were off, greenish, but he could see details. But there was nothing…Maybe he was imagining things. His nose scrunched up, he smelled something, but couldn't place it. (It smelled a bit like…stables, but this was the middle of the castle, that's really odd.)

There wasn't even a patrolling guard.

Wait! Sound. His ears twitched. Footsteps? But there corridor seemed so empty.

Too late did he realize that it _were_ footsteps and a hushed voice, which quickly silenced completely. Something – some kind of fabric – was thrown over his head. He couldn't _see_. Unfamiliar hands lifted him up, there was sudden lurching movements as his captor – captors? – began undoing his neckerchief for some reason.

Eek! What was happening? His magic malfunctioned; he couldn't grasp it. He started to panic for real.

He reacted. Suddenly and violently. Which was understandable.

()()()

When his doors suddenly were thrown open Arthur was startled out of his thoughts. His very bored thoughts, as he was alone and had absolutely nothing to do, no servant to order around and be bemused by as they stumbled.

"Guinevere? What are you doing here at this hour?" he asked. The handmaiden looked distressed, distracted.

"Sire! It's urgent! You have to help!"

A sudden chill grasped his spine, his hand inching closer to the hilt of his sword. A warning echoed in the back of his head. This feeling of foreboding came over him.

"What is it?"

"I found this lying in the hallway," the woman said, shaking a bit, worry etched on her face and she held out a piece of red cloth. "I think…Merlin is missing. Gaius bumped into me in a corridor, asking if I'd seen him, but neither I nor lady Morgana can find him. It's rather late; he should've returned to his or your chambers shouldn't he? But then, then we found…"

Merlin's neckerchief. Stained at the edges. Stained…it _couldn't_ be _blood_. But it was. Dark stains. It _must be_.

Arthur's chest contracted painfully, painfully, _Merlin can't have been…!_

"I have to find him!" he gasped, momentarily losing his composure. He quickly grasped his sword and marched out of the room, practically dragging Morgana with him. "Where exactly did you find this?" Arthur doesn't notice he's holding the neckerchief so hard in one fist, he can't let it go.

She led him to an alcove in a corridor one must pass to get between his chambers and Gaius' rooms. Arthur feels this strange, burning kind of fear and worry mixed with anger at whoever had dared to, dared to-! He's not used to this feeling and doesn't want to acknowledge it at first, but Merlin could be in real trouble, in real _danger_. Alarm bells went off in his head, refusing to leave him alone.

He found a piece of black clawed-at cloth tucked in the corner of the alcove and beneath it a small, crumbled note.

"Look," he said, showing it the Gwen.

"Oh," she gasped; her face difficult to read. "Are you sure you should go? Alone? Do you want to alert the king? Should I fetch lady Morgana, sire?"

"Of course! I won't let those bastards hurt Merlin!" The words were heated. He's too anxious and angry to even be embarrassed to reveal so much to her. "I'm going _now_. My father would only try and stop me. Swear to keep silent about this."

Gwen bit her lip, and then curtseyed. "I will not speak a word if that's what you wish, sire. Be careful."

Arthur dashed out of the corridor, out of the citadel and the city, slipping past a guard on duty who seems oddly distracted, into the edge of the woods.

()()()

Those claws were _nasty_. Yes, yes indeed. Gareth would never look at an innocent looking kitten the same way ever again, knowing or not their true identity. True, Merlin was probably panicked or scared, maybe both; he had a good reason to try and fight. Squirming and yowling and biting, through the fabric which they had covered his head with to – _maybe_ – calm him. It didn't seem to work. They meant no harm to the boy but how where they to tell him that without revealing their identities?

_Ouch_!

Nasty, nasty claws.

Yes, indeed, this was the last time Gareth was ever helping his evil, evil brother. He felt pity for the small creature struggling in his grip, but this was necessary for their plan.

"What's taking you?" Bors hissed at Gwaine.

Gwaine opened the cap of the small bottle. He had required it from lady Morgana; it was a sleeping draught, which she had liberated from Gaius. She was in a position where she could easily ask for such things without anyone suspecting anything. Also, it was harmless and would, without pain, cause the cat-boy to sleep for a few hours undisturbed.

That was the plan at least. They'd been a bit too hasty to come up with a back-up plan in case things went wrong…

"I told you," Gareth said sighing heavily when finally they had managed to subdue the cat and make it drink that surely foul tasting drink. "Bad idea."

Lady Morgana herself suddenly appeared in the alcove. "Risky move, I agree," she said sharing such an Evil look with Gwaine that Gareth shuddered. It was time to play her part now.

"He might not look it, but he's definitely a fighter," Gareth gasped, nursing an aching hand as the cat slumped.

"Oh, I know." In one hand she grasped a piece of red cloth, the neckerchief from the cat's neck. She gathered her skirts in her other fist, still smiling like_ that_, and turned away from the masked men, unrecognizable as they wore old, dirty brown and black tunics and trousers and had thrown some torn black cloaks over their shoulders for effect. "Thank you, gentlemen."

As the lady disappeared from sight, Gareth turned to Gwaine. "Are you sure this will do anything to 'help' and not just send us to the executioner's block?"

"We will have to reveal ourselves in the end…or may have, if not the lady interferes. But do not worry, brother dear."

"Prince Arthur is fearsome when he is angry, though," Bors muttered from the back of the group.

They began to make their way out of the city.


	6. Prince in shining armour

**A Prince's best friend**  
><strong>Chapter 6: In which the prince in shining armour rescues his princess, err, servant<strong>

The forest had darkened and it was difficult to discern what lay within the shadows in front of him.

He found a speck of light just a few hundred meters from the city gates: close enough to run back to Camelot within a couple of minutes if he had to, but too far away to be seen or heard by the guards. Guards which were probably a bit unfocused, as he'd managed to sneak past them with such ease. (He'd have to work on the city security, definitely.)

It wasn't his first concern though. Merlin was in danger: he had to get to him _quick_. The ransom note he and Gwen had found directed him to a small clearing nearby a stream. He took a moment to survey the situation before stepping into the clearing. The captors had gathered around a torch – three men, as far as he could see - and were muttering quietly amongst themselves. Their clothes were dark and dirty, faces covered and he couldn't see any drawn weapons. But they were probably armed. No arrows or crossbows – good, had they had long-range weapons it would have been more dangerous to escape if he got his hands on Merlin and was forced to run. Arthur was a good fighter though, and knew he could kill the three men if he had to.

The tallest of the three was holding (or…cradling?) Merlin the cat with both hands.

Arthur stepped into the torchlight. He had one hand ready on the hilt of his sword.

"I am here. Now, release my servant and I'll spare your lives. Refuse and I'll simply kill you."

The three men glanced at each other. Then the one to the left spoke. "We want a ransom first." The voice was low, mysterious, and unnatural: it sounded like the speaker was terribly much trying to hide their real voice.

Well, obviously. Arthur did not plan on giving them power, riches or secrets concerning Camelot security. If that's what they wanted, he'd attack. He probably needed a plan, but adrenaline and fear was pumping in his veins, fear for Merlin's life, he found it difficult to think straight, his gaze constantly drawn to the black furry bundle in the tall man's hands.

"What do you want?"

"We've…_watched_ you. We know your innermost secrets…"

That did sound quite foreboding. Arthur reacted as he would, nearly growling at them: "You've been spying on me? Who are you?"

"Who we are isn't significant. Now, we'll give you back your servant on a condition."

"What condition would that be?"

"As said, we know some of your secrets. Namely the one which concerns your heart. Confess to us who is closest to your heart now and kiss them within three days, or we'll do it for you."

This was both disturbing and a little ridiculous. Arthur had expected demands of riches or something, not- How could they know about who his…his _heart_ belonged to? How long had they watched him? And by claiming that if he didn't fulfil this demand they'd 'do it for him', they practically threatened to…to _force_ themselves on M—the person he…fancied! He couldn't let that happen. If these people knew about said person, they could…they could… No, he couldn't let that happen. But _how_ could they come so close to him, to Camelot?

Ugh, he was too tired for this stuff right now.

"Give me one good reason why I should tell you."

"Your servant." The man to the left continued to act speaker, the tall one raising his hands making the point clear as day. "Confess and we'll give you the servant without fuss."

Arthur's chest contracted in worry. "If I tell you, you will let him go and then leave Camelot. But answer me first – why is it important to you to know this…secret, and have me fulfil this deal?" (If the men had such an idea already, he didn't know if it could be properly labeled a 'secret', could it ? … What was making this scene so strangely…. _familiar_, anyway?)

"It's not as important to us as it's important to _you_, sire, and your future."

It sounded like they knew…Like they already knew what he was going to say. Have to say. Right, he could lie…Would the men see through it? What would happen to Merlin if those thugs realized he lied; was lying safe? Was it better to give in, tell the truth, laying his pride aside for just one moment? Besides they threatened to…to...He couldn't let that happen! If they'd watched him long enough to know this, then, then they knew about … _him_ … and maybe could sneak into the city and…If he didn't kiss said person within three days.

"If I do tell, you must swear not to spread my words."

"Sire – would we really be so stupid?" the man said, smugly, there could be a little smirk and raised eyebrow beneath the rags covering up the face: "Ending up at the execution block accused for kidnapping is not a goal we'd fancy. So, if you please…" He made a gesture with his right hand. "Tell whom your heart belongs to."

Arthur gritted his teeth. So they weren't simple foolish stupid men. They were foolish, rather intelligent (though it was questionable…Who'd kidnap a prince's servant and demand words, not money? Demand to know who he loved? All right – they _were_ stupid) men, at least intelligent enough to think ahead of themselves and this situation. This complicated things. Lying would be dangerous. If he drew his sword right now (his hands itched to do so) it would definitely put Merlin in danger, given the position he was in: and that's all that mattered, Merlin's security. Arthur was so worried; it was hard to think of anything else but the tiny slumped body in front of him.

"Very well."

A pause. One of the men shifted weight from both to one foot. "Go on," the speaker urged.

"My heart belongs to…"

Oh this was ridiculous! Here he was, armed, before three men in a forest who'd done a quick job of kidnapping his servant, and wasting his time on words. Why did they want to know who he loved? And why would he answer them truthfully? He could just say anything, and they'd let Merlin go. In theory this whole scenario was easy to get out of. The men hadn't drawn any weapons whatsoever. So either they were sly or stupid.

"…no one."

"That's a lie."

"How can you know? Give me my servant!"

"A prince ought to be truthful to his people."

'His people?' So they were from Camelot!

"There are rumours that someone by the name Merlin is important to you. We wanted to test of this was true. Spit it out now, sire."

"Fine. My heart belongs to… to Merlin." There, he said it. The three men were just foolish thugs … what did it matter what he said to them? "Now give me the servant."

The speaker looked smug, even with his face mostly covered. He looked like he wanted to applause or do some silly victory dance.

"Put him down and back away."

The men complied, the tall one settling the cat on a bed of leaves and joined his fellows, four steps back. Arthur stepped forward cautiously, never letting them leave his line of sight. They didn't run, didn't move, suddenly like they were unsure. (Maybe they weren't used kidnappers.) A huge, warm relief rippled through his body as he finally could pick up Merlin, holding the cat close to his chest. He still hadn't woken up.

"Remember sire, three days."

Arthur was like thunder when he turned back to them sword raised.

()()()

Gwaine was a pretty good actor though he was a bit tipsy.

Or not.

It pretty much broke when he said 'Three days' and Gareth, who had drunk less, realized what the prince must be thinking, that he though they were implied they were going to force themselves on his servant. Thus, when the prince turned onto them with sword raised, Gareth was the first one to react, understanding what was going on.

Arthur proceeded to beat the crap out of them.

"A bad idea," Bors gasped. He didn't want to attack the prince for real, hurt him. After all it was never their goal. They hadn't thought the prince _would_ attack: he had confessed his feelings, after all, agreed to the deal and been given Merlin.

_Oh_.

Now, when he'd been given Merlin (and gently laid him on the ground by the base of a tree, out of their range) he would proceed to capture or kill the captors, so hot was his rage. The anger was strong enough to turn them into bloody pulps. It was fortunate they had donned armour and chainmail beneath the dark clothing.

"We gotta run," Gareth shouted. "Gwa—I mean_, run for it_!"

When they did, they split up into three different directions. The prince, for some reason, didn't follow.

()()()

Merlin was still unresponsive, limp in his arms when he reached the courtyard. Not panicking, only a little, _well_, _maybe panicking_ (he was thinking about the poisoned chalice again, about the idiot following him into the labyrinth, and every other known instance where Merlin had gotten himself into danger for Arthur's sake) the prince shook the cat in his arms, but it didn't wake up, only made a displeased little sound. He had already examined him, relieved when finding no blood and no injuries. That blood on the neckerchief hadn't been Merlin's…for which Arthur was very, very glad. If the servant had been injured he would have pulverized those thugs, not letting them escape.

At least they had suffered quite heavy damage. A lot of bruising. They had donned chainmail underneath the dirty dark rags, he'd felt the impact of metal through his sword. So they had prepared themselves for a fight. Surprising thing was they hadn't fought back much at all. Sure, they defended themselves, but they never _attacked_ _him_. Never attempted to inflict a _wound_.

But what did it matter now? He was tired, sore, hungry - cradling the cat to his chest, he made his way to his chambers, slipping past the guards as quietly as possible, knowing their routine. He didn't want questions or raised eyebrows right now.

When arriving to his chambers, he gently laid an unconscious Merlin among the blankets, making sure he was comfortable before jerking off his chainmail and tunic, not caring about washing off or changing out of his breeches.

He fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow, one arm curled around Merlin: with him, Merlin would be safe.

()()()

It was somewhere between midnight and morning as Bors came stumbling through the door, exhausted and aching. Annette, his wife, rose quietly from bed, eyes fixed on the disheveled man, hands on hips.

"Hnn, h'llo darling… sorry 'bout m'apperance" He waved a hand around the air, immediately regretting it. His arm. _Hurt_. No training could compare to this. Arthur had been inches from beating them to death. Now his wife might be about to do the same. "Ouch."

"If you have been to the tavern…"

Uh oh.

"Not tavern…Forest, cat…fightin'... stubborn prince ... _Tired_…"

He collapsed on the bedding, stomach rumbling. Oh, he was really hungry. What would he give for a piece of meat…or some bread…some stew! Annette was a wonderful cook... But he was too tired to move, his muscles aching and it was the middle of the night and Annette was most probably, with right, quite angry with him and wouldn't make any food for him even if he were on his hands and knees pleading.

"Never helpin' Gwaine … ever… again," he muttered, or at least that was Annette could make out from his string of incoherent babble. The young woman lay down on the other side of the bed, shaking her head at the mention of the knight: though a knight and high of status, he was known for his _behavior_. What had he gotten into this time?


	7. Merlin is cured?

_**Author's note: **I just wanted to say a tremendous thank you to everyone who enjoys my story and in particular those who have reviewed, faved or alerted. You're the ones keeping me going, guys!_

()()()

**A Prince's best friend  
>Chapter 7: In which Merlin is…cured? And for Arthur, it's payback time<strong>

The first feeling he had was one of refreshment. The second, as he stretched (a habit he'd developed over the last few days) was one of realization. His limbs were entirely too long. He fletched toes and fingers; they felt a bit sore… In shock he opened his eyes._ Toes! Fingers!_ It'd worked! The spell had worked – he was normal again!

And very naked in Arthur's soft pillowy bed. With said prince's hand resting on his lower back. (For a second there feeling the warm firm hand against his skin he grew sort of incoherent.)

Wait, how had he ended up in Arthur's bed? Why wasn't he in his own room? Wait…last night…His memories were sort of foggy...He'd gone to see Gaius, somehow the spell hadn't seemed to work and then….After visiting the dragon, he'd walked down a hallway, toward Arthur's chambers – then, _poof!,_ hands, strangers surrounding him, hushed voices: he'd struggled, distinctively remembering clawing at the hands gripping him, and suddenly been overcome by darkness.

He panicked just a little. What'd happened? What was going on? Had he dreamed oddly or something? But why was he in Arthur's chambers anyway if that was the case, and fully nude? _What was going on?_

Arthur was waking up. The man startled into full, wide-eyed consciousness as he felt not soft fur but hairless soft skin where he last remembered the cat had been curled up next to him. He immediately drew back his hand from the naked back of his manservant, gasping in surprise.

"M-Merlin!"

Arthur never stammered like that, but Merlin was too embarrassed by his predicament to be amused.

"Uhh, good morning, sire." Merlin said, trying to smile and be his usual cheery self but it was difficult when he was naked and blushing and sort of confused what was going on and in bed with a prince, whom he most possibly fancied, who only wore a pair of breeches. Arthur was gawking at him. He pulled a rich blanket closer around his body, his neck heating up at the open stare Arthur was giving him. How was he going to explain this? Oh _God_, Arthur was going to have his head. In the stocks. For years.

"I, err, I'm not sure how I ended up here." They hadn't … done anything had they? They hadn't gotten ridiculously drunk and he had no memory of turning human because … or something, had they?_ Had they? _Oh gods _what if they- and __**he**__**couldn't remember!**_

"You're human!" Arthur exclaimed. For a moment he pondered what he should say first, maybe mention the strange and startling occurrences last night, or…"You—!"

"Y-yes, I woke up like this," Merlin answered cautiously, pulling the blanket ever closer around himself, how was he going to get his clothes? He couldn't continue being naked and near Arthur. Near _anyone_. Speaking of that – his clothes were nowhere in sight. "Errr…umm…I'd better get going…ehm, clothed…"

He expected a response like, maybe, "Get your lazy ass off my bed!" or "What are you doing here, get out!" or "Well go dress then, I'm not a servant, _Mer_lin" or maybe even "You're an idiot you know" - not "Your _ears_!"

He couldn't come up with an appropriate comeback. "... ears?"

_That_ threw him off of the wheel. Was Arthur about to insult him or something? He knew he had rather big, ugly, embarrassing ears, but Arthur hadn't harassed him about them for weeks, so what started this? Though he wasn't smirking or grinning evilly, there was only bafflement and bemusement on his face. Merlin blinked at him, wondering what was going through the prat's head.

"Look in the mirror you idiot," the prince gestured rather wildly toward the wardrobe and the mirror next to it; "Just _look_ at your _head_!"

He glanced toward said piece of furniture, but couldn't see himself from this angle, and strongly refused to walk over there naked whilst Arthur was watching him. So he raised his hands to feel the side of his head, shocked when there was nothing but hair and smooth even skin; his hands traveled further upwards, where they encountered a pair of _something_ – something furry, soft and triangular.

"_What's_ _happened_?"he - not shrieked, just nearly _almost_ shrieked with some sort of panic. All right, yes, he shrieked. But hey!, it's justified when you find you've got your ears replaced overnight.

Arthur was too distracted to call him a girl at making such a sound.

"You've got cat ears," Arthur stated dumbly. "How…? On second thought, let's get you dressed first. Then we can talk."

It took several seconds for the words to register. Merlin continued to paw helplessly at his ears for a moment, staggered.

"…Uhh, yeah… that's probably a good idea."

Arthur slid out of the bed and pulled out some old garments from his wardrobe. He was a bit too broad for them to fit perfectly on Merlin but the servant wasn't going to keep them anyways; they should go to Gaius' quarters, maybe the old man could tell why Merlin still had some attributes of a cat.

Arthur turned away to let Merlin dress. And promptly turned back to stare at the now half-dressed boy when Merlin shouted: "Tail! I-I've got a _tail too_!"

It looked exactly like the tail he'd had as full cat, only several sized bigger, like the ears in proportion with Merlin's human body, sticking up just a couple of inches above the waistline. Merlin was gripping it with both hands, staring at it quite stupidly. At least he wasn't fainting or something, to Arthur's relief. Seeing a passed out, oddly-held-hostage cat-Merlin last night had been enough of a scare.

"How am I going to hide this?" Merlin said at length, Arthur still looking at him oddly.

"Try and hide it under your clothes for now. We'll go and see Gaius."

"What about my ears?" They were ... _twitching_; he could feel them move a bit just like when he'd been a full cat, toward the sound of the prince's voice. Oh why were these things happening to him?

Arthur tore his gaze away. Merlin still didn't wear a shirt, and he'd never before seen him undressed, his chest looked very smooth and the skin pale, unblemished, and it wasn't unappealing…Damn it! He shouldn't think like that! He should concentrate on helping Merlin find a cure, not stand there gawking and drooling like some pervert. Because Arthur is not. A pervert.

"…I probably got a cap or cloak or something…" He quickly turned around and busied himself with turning his wardrobe upside down.

"Umm, Arthur?" Merlin said rather weakly. "I can't seem to remember that much from last night…Why did I wake up in your bed?"

()()()

Leon.

Was not happy.

Gwaine, his brother and Bors had turned up for the day's training hangover (at least Gwaine was hangover) and bruised to the point it was difficult to tell what their faces looked like originally. They had been beat up and rather badly so. If this was another stupid bar brawl Leon would have to tell prince Arthur, who would straighten the men out. They couldn't go around provoking people's anger like that.

"Oh, hello," Gwaine said and rubbed his jaw. It bloody hurt. Arthur didn't have to hit so hard.

"What have you been _doing_?" Bedivere, a young trainee knight, asked as he came up to the three awful-looking men. They answered simultaneously:

"Oh, just…minding our own business," Gwaine said, tongue-in-cheek.

"Fight in the tavern," Gareth said, eyes darting; to Leon it sounded like a lie.

"Done things I regret," Bors muttered very, very tiredly.

Bedivere looked confused, as the three men didn't seem to agree. With a frown, he said, "You look awful. Maybe you should go and see the physician?"

"No, no!" Gwaine exclaimed, shaking his head and gesturing with his hands. "We've got to train. Got to check up on how Arthur's doing. Yeah, keep an eye on… on his progress. Right, boys?" The other knights looked at him, wordlessly, nodded tiredly after sharing a look. "See! We're… fine, great, wonderful. Now, let's see about…footwork!" Whistling, he trotted across the field toward a group of other knights doing some warm-ups.

Scratching the back of his head, Bedivere glanced at Leon, who was scowling for some reason. "Maybe Gwaine's had a head injury..."

()()()

It was odd, Arthur was so strangely quiet…After getting over the shock of the tail and the ears, they walked to Gaius' place (the winter cap was so _uncomfortable, _he kept raising his hand to scratch his irritated ears but remember in the last moment not to reveal them): also Merlin found himself subdued, mainly because he was still embarrassed about waking up in such a state in Arthur's bed without remembering how he got there.

Normally Arthur would make an insult or complaint or call him a girl, to get conversation flowing, but now he was so quiet…Almost like someone had piled some rocks on his shoulders, they were so tense, and he kept glancing at him...

Sure, Merlin had seen Arthur in his quiet moods before but somehow this felt…different.

What had happened last night? Why couldn't he _remember_? Why did Arthur insist on not telling him?

"Merlin!" Ah. Gaius. The old man looked relieved at seeing them. "Sire."

"Gaius, it appears that the…magic has worn off," Arthur said quietly. "Mostly, that is. We have a slight problem."

When the doors were closed, Merlin took off the annoying cap and freed his tail from under the tunic. That felt a lot better already. Gaius didn't look pleased…he was getting that Eyebrow Look again which was dangerous. Merlin tried to look as innocent as possible – with Arthur still in the room he couldn't very well just say 'My magic seems to've malfunctioned, but I'll figure something out, don't worry Gaius.'

"Oh dear. Well, I will see what I can do…Perhaps, sire, it is so that the magic will wear off _entirely_ in time." (Another knowing, dangerous Eyebrow Look sent his way caused Merlin to duck his head). "Like with Merlin's voice; you were able to hear him after a time, and now he is almost completely human again. If we wait one or two more days, it should be gone."

Arthur turned to the physician jerkily. "All right…We just have to keep people from noticing…" The prince waved a hand at the servant, who batted his hand away. ("I don't want your hands in my face, look, you haven't washed them, they're covered with dirt! Have you learned nothing of personal hygiene?")

"I won't go around wearing that annoying cap. It itches terribly." Not to mention it was bloody ugly. Even Merlin had enough sense to know that. And in the middle of summer too? People were going to ask like if he was sick or something. They couldn't have asking people right now.

Arthur also seemed to realize this problem. They wanted as little attention as possible, after all. "Can't you use one of your neckerchiefs and tie it around your head? Like a bandanna?"

"I'll look stupid."

"It's that or the cap. You're getting back to work today, you know, my chambers look hideous, my clothes need to be laundered, the stables mucked out, my armour cleaned, my sword sharpened, not to mention you've not fetched me breakfast…"

"All right, all right! Prat." Merlin stuck out his tongue. "You still haven't told…You know, what happened last night. Why I woke up in your chambers." He was well aware that Gaius was still in the room. Probably listening. Intently. He'd noticed that Gaius had an odd fascination at watching his and the prince's little spats.

Arthur unfolded his crossed arms. "Fine, I'll tell you to shut you up. It's a bit complicated…Sit down for a moment. Don't interrupt me now."

Merlin obediently sat on the spot, legs crossed (Arthur seemed to be in this snappy kind of mood that if he'd moved toward the chair, he'd get more tongue lashing and the prince would never get on with the story.)

***M*E*R*L*I*N***

Morgana casually waited outside the prince's chamber door, listening for a moment, before continuing her way down the corridor. They hadn't succeeded yet, but anyway, there were three days left. They – she, this time, she decided – would have to face Merlin which she had a feeling would be easier than facing Arthur (she wouldn't have to use any kidnapping or traumatic methods) – the boy was sweet and a bit naïve. Before anything could happen between the two they would have to recognize their feelings them. Then they could act upon them. She'd see them happy.

Gwaine (and Gwen) would be delighted to hear it. She was not sure whether Bors or any of the other knights cared much, though they had all become fond of the boy.

Gareth would probably not, on the other hand, be so happy to hear Merlin was back normal (what was that talk about ears though?) – the knight had really liked the cat…

Hmm, that could be useful…

()()()

"So…let me get this straight. Some strange men kidnapped me and knocked me out. Gwen found out I was missing, found my neckerchief, told you and you went to the forest _alone_ without telling even your father about it, to save me? Are you **daft**? They could've **killed** **you**!" Merlin looked fretful, a bit angry, annoyed, but with those upset ears and flailing arms and downcast tail, Arthur just thought he looked ridiculously endearing. "… And then as ransom they wanted you to … confess your heart and agree to some kind of deal involving 'you deepest secret'? And then they let me go, when you told them 'your deepest secret' and agreed to said deal? Then, after beating them up, you carried me (in cat form) to your chambers and went to sleep…"

"Unlikely but true."

"They let you go…when you told them _one single secret_? And that deal! What if it's dangerous! What if you get hurt? You shouldn't do stuff like that!" Merlin couldn't believe it. He thought kidnappers asked for ransoms such as wealth, power, money. Gold. Jewels. Something like that. Not secrets like that. A pressing curiosity followed the disbelief: what secret could Arthur have told those thugs? What deal could they've agreed to? And why hadn't they fought back well when he attacked them?

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Yes, _Merlin_. I have no reason to lie to you. (Not now, anyway.)"

"But I don't get it…First, how did they know it was me?"

"What?"

"That I was the cat. That the cat was significant to you … How did they know? Only us, Morgana and those four knights know about me being the cat. Everyone else thought I was extremely ill and that's why I couldn't see anyone. Right?"

Arthur looked suddenly thoughtful. "You are smarter than you look, you know."

"Oh, _thanks_."

"I must admit that in my…state of anger I didn't think of such facts. I simply presumed someone had kidnapped my servant and thus offended me and were threatening me: so I went out to deal with it. You have a point. So either we have been spied upon (as the men admitted, they said they've been "watching me") and someone has been smart enough to make a connection – or the knights did the whole deed. Or Morgana, possibly."

"Morgana? Why'd she _or_ the knights do that?" Merlin asked, wide-eyed. Sometimes, Arthur thought, he could be ridiculously naïve. Must be his big good heart, always believing the best in people. At least it was a sign that Morgana hadn't tried to corrupt the boy with her evil mind.

_Yes, why __**indeed**__,_ Arthur thought sarcastically. He had an idea of an answer already, but refrained from speaking it out loud. All right, those men (when thinking about it their voices had been somewhat _familiar_…the speaker's _behavior_…definitely reminded him of someone) had had a point, when they made him confess. It made him vulnerable and a bit ashamed, but they still had a point. If it really were the knights (that sly Gwaine!) it all made sense. He had a vague feeling that they had known all along of his…feelings. When this happened, when Merlin got vulnerable, they took advantage of the situation.

He'd bet that Morgana had had a hand in this with her prying at dinner and suddenly being incredibly nice to Merlin the cat…And her handmaiden, Gwen, too. After all, her sudden appearance to ask for his aid was a bit too convenient. (Morgana really should stop corrupting innocent people.)

Oh, when he got his hand on those knights….! Making him have a near-heart-attack because of some scheme. They'd be punished. He wouldn't have them executed, of course, or remove their knighthood, they were in truth too good-hearted and skilled fighters for that, but they maybe should taste the stocks. For a couple of days. And extra long training sessions, long-time border patrol, double night guard, eternal banishment from the city taverns... (_Revenge_…)

"Uh, Arthur?" Merlin waved a hand in front of his face, making him blink. "You alright? You blanked out for a minute there...You made this sort of funny expression."

"Just thinking."

"Be careful. You could break something."

The prince whacked the boy over the head, but the air seemed a lot less tense from before. It was good. Maybe things could return to normal. So what if the knights had figured him out and drawn such a confession out of him? It wouldn't change anything… Merlin was still so…so….well, Merlinesque, who thought he was a spoiled, annoying, prattish, supercilious prince. Maybe a friend. Never—Well, never mind, it didn't matter.

Once he'd sorted out the knights, they could do nothing about that threat…

He'd just make sure to never leave Merlin alone with any of them, never let him out of his sight, and he'd be fine…It was just three days. What could possibly happen?

This up close he noticed that something was off with Merlin's eyes. They were the same blue colour, but the pupils were formed like slits rather than round: like a cat's eye. That might be a problem.

Merlin continued to stare at him quite intensely like trying to figure out what he was thinking.

"Well," he said, clearing his throat. "Hide your ears and tail, then you can start cleaning my chambers. Fetch my breakfast." There were some _errands_ he had to run.

Merlin groaned. "Must I? Can't I have onesingle day off for once?"

()()()

"…Good day, sire!" Gwaine greeted cheerfully.

Arthur's face = Eep! for the knights. A couple of them standing nearby, including Bedivere, first raised eyebrows, then frowned, and lastly gaped at Arthur's stormy face and the reaction it provoked among Bors, Gwaine and Gareth.

"Gwaine, I think…" Gareth muttered quietly, gulping.

"Admittedly the plan was a bit hasty…there'd been a few beers involved after all…"

"I should have gone back to bed this morning," Bors muttered. "I deserve a sleep in for all the trouble you've put me through."

()()()

When his son stepped into the hall without being followed by that clumsy black creature, Uther raised an eyebrow. "Oh? You decided to get rid of that infernal creature?"

Arthur looked strangely gloomy and tense, his hand near the hilt of his sword. "It seems to have disappeared."

The king coughed. "Arthur, I have heard displeased mutterings from the courtiers. They say there are some knights in the stocks."

In fact earlier that day the prince had ordered two more stocks to have been taken forward, so the three knights could stand there in shame together. Much to both the bother and amusement of the people. At first they had been hesitant at actually throwing the habitual rotten vegetables at them – they were after all noble – but Arthur himself had with quite satisfaction landed a watery tomato right in Gwaine's spluttering face, making the onlookers follow suit.

"Yes, that is correct, father."

"Arthur, you know we do not punish knights or lords to the stocks, only commoners. What reason do you have to have put them there?"

"They deeply offended me by threatening my servant. I believe they are in need for a lesson in humility. Believe me father, I have not punished them thusly to act conceding or childish, but I could not judge their behavior bad enough for a flogging."

Uther felt strangely amused all of sudden. No knight or man of status had been put in the stocks for _years_. (He should go out and watch it for himself just for awhile, for old times' sake…) "Oh? Well. I must say I can see no harm in it. I hope, however, you aren't making them unable to participate in combat."

"Of course I will not, father."

"Well then. That was all. You may leave."

Arthur bowed his head. This had gone better than he'd thought: if the king demanded the knights to be immediately released from the stocks, he would have to obey. Arthur had no intention of letting those three out for a while.

()()()

"You call this breakfast?" Arthur asked, not very impressed with the piece of bread and cheese lying next to the pile of greens and the pitcher of water.

"Well, you know, we got to keep you in shape."

"Where is my wine?"

"You drink wine practically every day to almost every meal. Don't you ever grow tired of it?"

"Hmm, not really."

Merlin began folding some freshly cleaned clothing and putting them into the wardrobe. Thoughtfully like talking to himself, he said, not looking at the prince; "A drunken prince is not going to function properly. Considering the strange mood you've been in today, I feared you'd try fixing it by getting yourself smashed which isn't something I'd like. You're terrible in the morning when you're hangover. Oh, wait, let me rephrase that. You're _always_ terrible in the morning."

His senses warned him just in time to duck from the book, which had been lying on the table and was within the prince's reach, that suddenly came flying passing dangerously close to his head.

"Shut up, _Mer_lin."

Merlin allowed himself a small grin. Maybe he could cure Arthur out of whatever mood he'd fallen into (even if the prince's comebacks still were lame).

"Oh sure. I mean, sorry, sire. Of course."

()()()

"Listen! I have a new tactic. We'd be stealthier…"

"Gwaine, _please_…" Bors groaned, plucking some tomatoes from his hair.

"… but also painstakingly _obvious_. We got to make the prince fulfill the deal, remember? First steps first. The lady reports Merlin is his old self again (something about ears, though, I'm not sure what that means), which can help us in more ways than one. We will have to use an even stronger weapon. The prince's progress is awfully slow."

"Oh. _Oh_. No. You'll…You won't right? _No_," Gareth said a bit horrified at thinking of the servant boy being approached by his flamboyant flirtatious brother. If Gwaine got his grabby little hands on him…the boy was so innocent, so trusting, and probably naïve about innuendos. This would be bad. Worse than bad. He'd better take this into his own hands

"I'll do it," he said suddenly, forcefully.

"Ah! That's the spirit," Gwaine said and patted his back. "Let the green monsters emerge."


	8. Gareth's first move

**A Prince's best friend  
>Chapter 8: In which Gareth makes his first move (or maybe second - or really, it might be the third if we take everything into account)<strong>

Merlin looked up from work when there was a knock on the door. He kept, just in case, a neckerchief on to hide his ears like Arthur had suggested, but it was so uncomfortable to hide both them and the tail, beneath his tunic, all the time. Once behind closed doors he released the tail again, subconsciously it twitched a little as he worked. Startled at the sound of knuckles rapping against wood, he turned around still holding the bedding he was about to change.

"Lady Morgana!"

She stepped inside, smiling kindly. She wore a very beautiful, silvery dress and matching earrings. It was strange seeing her from this angle when he had spent over two days just being a little over a foot tall and looking _up_ at everyone. Beside her was Gwen, whom he hadn't seen in days, she smiled widely at seeing him.

"Merlin! How are you? Are you all right? Gaius said you've just recovered…I was really worried about you, I'm so glad to see you again," Gwen babbled. "Of course I'm sure prince Arthur has worried more, I mean, you are rather close. Not _close_, close, but—you understand what I mean right?"

"Hi, Gwen," he smiled. "I'm fine. It's good to see you too."

"Hello, Merlin. I see that you are well again."

"Uhmm, yeah. I'm feeling … a lot better." He couldn't mention any magic now that Gwen was here; he wasn't sure if Morgana had told the maid about the cat-thing. He tried his best to keep his tail still, so the two women couldn't see it.

"We just came to check on you. Where's Arthur, by the way?"

"Seeing Uth- the king. He called for a meeting I think, with some of the councilors and knights. I'm not sure when he'll be back."

"I see. Well, maybe we shouldn't bother you any longer. Good luck!" Morgana said with a secretive smile.

Gwen also said her goodbyes, then the two women left, leaving him frowning. Good luck with what?

He shrugged. There was no event coming up involving him, nothing to need 'good luck'. (Sudden magical threats, guaranteed to arise when they least needed it, didn't really count as no one else but him and Gaius would know he helped to get rid of said threats: nobody ever wished him good luck when he needed it!)

Everyone was acting so strange…

()()()

He wanted to dig a hole in the earth and hide forever, still embarrassed about the whole being-a-cat-and-playing-with-the-knights thing, but Arthur was stubbornly insisting on him serving him during training. The prat wouldn't listen to his protests (he even offered to muck out the stables instead!), only told him to stop whining like a girl. So, very reluctantly, Merlin helped the still off-character prince into his chainmail. While doing this Arthur had looked about to say something several times, but when Merlin noticed his expression, raised an eyebrow and asked, Arthur said it was nothing.

"You're acting strange, you know…" Merlin said. "If there's something you want to tell me, it's all right to go ahead. Or are you just attempting to annoy me? Because I'll have you know it doesn't work."

Arthur ignored him. On the way out, he said over his shoulder, "Remember to hide the tail and the ears."

Like he needed to be reminded. Nothing else was added. Merlin frowned, wondering what was going on (besides him still having some traits of a cat), but since all his earlier attempts at finding out by question had failed, he had to use some other method. Keeping silent and hope Arthur mentioned it himself. Had it do with the kidnapping? Merlin had assured Arthur again and again that he wasn't hurt, that he was fine, though his memory was wobbly…Was it about the kidnappers? Arthur had at some point hinted that they'd been caught, but the warlock had no idea who they could be. The prince refused to tell him.

Also, the guard following him around was quite disturbing. Merlin had, after seeing the man standing just outside Arthur's usually unguarded chambers when Merlin leaving with the laundry, hesitantly approached and asked what he was doing there. The guard replied that "Prince Arthur requires me to keep an eye on you." It wasn't much of helpful information. Then the man proceeded to follow him when he went about his duties. Being stalked was making him uncomfortable. If the prat was so worried about him, why wouldn't he just _say_ so?

Said guard (whose name Merlin yet didn't know) had stayed nearby all day and now followed to the training fields. He remained like a shadow in the corner of the servant's eye. Creepy, yes. The tall, loomy man reminded him of some kind of huge intimidating dog which could pounce at any moment with that massive muscular, armoured bulk.

"Ummm…Arthur? Can I ask something?" he said just before the prince ignored him completely by the edge of the field. "Just why is that guard following me around?"

"Just a precaution."

"I thought you'd caught the kidnappers…is that what's bothering you? I've told you I'm okay. Or is it that deal? Can't you _tell_ _me_ what it's about?"

"Merlin, hand me my sword."

Another very helpful, informative conversation (his day so far had been full of those). He wished he knew some kind of truth spell or could read Arthur's mind. He looked at the prince's temple with great concentration, but couldn't get anything out of it but a strange look from the prince.

Sighing, the warlock handed the blonde the weapon. Before he could ask anything more, the prince had stalked across the field, barking some orders. His mood seemed…worse than usual. Must be since he'd had no banter to ease his tension that morning, Merlin figured. Usually he and Arthur bantered and bickered a bit, sometimes a lot, and it helped to get Arthur in a better less angry mood for training later in the day. Now however the knights would have to take the full brunt of his aggravation, something they hadn't done for months (i.e. since Merlin became the prince's servant).

Merlin settled to watch, pretending to polish a shield to look at least useful (not that it would stop Arthur from giving him orders).

The prince seemed extra hard on Gwaine, his brother and Bors today. For some reason they were hunched over a bit like their backs were aching, and had trouble parrying blows against other opponents. He was a bit worried, as was his nature, wondering if they were wounded or anything. But they wouldn't be allowed to training if they were seriously injured, right?

The three men seemed distracted… Gareth _and_ Gwaine kept sending him odd glances all the time. Once Gwaine paused after slashing down his sword and winked at him, but Gareth, who fought with him, forcefully hit the man's side with the flat of his sword making him groan in pain. The knight appeared to say something (Gwaine seemed to deflate) but Merlin couldn't hear what. Next, Gareth turned to Merlin's direction…smiling. It was strange, his eyes were fixed upon him and he was smiling and dipping his head like in greeting or something, quite proudly, like saying _Watch me!,_ before turning back to his opponent. It was so confusing; Merlin had no idea why he acted like that.

The warlock glanced to his side when he felt the presence of that guard. He smiled politely and asked, "Hi, what's your name?"

The guard seemed taken off guard. "Sir Percival."

"You're a knight?" Merlin said, surprised. "But then why are you acting like a guard? I mean, I've never seen any knights around before who didn't…act as knights."

"The Prince appointed this duty to me."

He didn't say anything else for awhile. Maybe he wasn't very talkative.

"Oh. Umm. Can I ask you something…sir?" he added the last bit mentally kicking himself, remembering he was talking to a knight.

"Of course."

"Why exactly has Arthur appointed you to, well, guard me? It's obvious, the way you've kept following me, it's starting to worry me to be honest…no offence but I do mind being followed around, it's a bit…disturbing…and no one has told me any reason why."

The knight-come-guard looked amused at the servant's familiarity when speaking about the prince, and his lacking of respect. It didn't bother Percival somehow though he was used to propriety, it must be the boy's easy smile and the way he simply could start conversation like that; he was likable and he had an open honest face which betrayed much of his emotions. Right now one of them was slight distress.

"Well, the prince expressed he wanted some extra measurements taken to ensure your safety, though why, I am not sure."

"Oh." The boy's face dropped in disappointment. He'd hoped to find out more. "Do you know how long you're going to stay … guarding me?"

"At least three days."

Three days?

He _had_ to find a way to make Arthur spill it. Three days with those watchful dog eyes and he'd freak out for sure. Plus, he sometimes used his magic for chores (not that he told Gaius, the physician would have his head) and outside them…he'd have to be extra careful about that. Wait! Was that knight supposed to follow him _always_, including when he ate, slept and bathed?

"Err, are you going to watch me _all the time_ during the next three days?" he stuttered awkwardly.

Thankfully, Percival sensed his embarrassment and why. "I'm here to keep an eye on you, not take away your privacy."

"Oh. Uhm, thanks. I guess."

Arthur so would have to explain what on earth was going on.

()()()

"Sire, I wondered, I mean - I need to ask something…"

With a sigh, Arthur tore his gaze away from the table where the servant was seated (…_I_ _need to keep an eye on him_…). He turned to the young knight. "Yes? What is it?"

()()()

"Hello, Merlin."

"Err…hello. Uhm, sir."

"You don't need to sir me, it makes me feel old."

"Ah, all right."

Gareth leaned against the table where Merlin was sitting absently polishing an armguard. Arthur had called for a break – the knights were exhausted and steaming under the heavy sun. The exercise had been long and harsh, and no ending seemed to be in sight. The knight rested both palms on the wood, leaning in a bit closer than Merlin was used to, into his personal space.

Percival lingered nearby, probably listening very, very intensely. He didn't move from his spot, forward or backward.

"I see you're better. That's good. How are you feeling?"

Merlin felt terribly awkward, but the man either didn't notice or ignored it. "It's fine," he said, "it's…uhm, good to be back to normal again."

"I was quite worried."

Why was he looking at him like that? His eyes were green with a brown tint in them, the gaze intense. It reminded him a bit of how Arthur had stared at him this morning, and the thought made his neck heat up, and he looked away. "Uhm…that's…" 'That's nice to hear' wasn't exactly the right thing to say. "Well, I'm okay now. The enchantment or whatever it was has broken now."

Gareth was so close…It wasn't exactly uncomfortable, the man was nice and not a total stranger, but still not fully welcome. The only person Merlin was used to standing so close was Arthur or sometimes Gwen. "I'm glad," he said, lips turning upwards into a smile. "I wondered maybe if you wanted to join me in the tavern tonight? A simple outing, you and me. You are very…a very nice young man and I'd like getting to know you."

It was a kind genuine offer, and Merlin felt tempted to say yes. However, he was unsure if he could with that guard following him around and with Arthur in that odd mood. "I don't know…"

"If you don't want to, it's all right. We've got time later to get to know each other, I'm sure…"

Merlin felt his coincidence gnawing at him when he saw disappointment and maybe hurt flashing on the man's face as he leaned away slightly. It'd always been his weak point – people being disappointed and hurt, he hated letting them down. If he finished his chores quickly, he could probably make it. Gareth was a likable man; he couldn't see anything wrong with spending some time with him… "All right," Merlin smiled. "I'll make sure not to get some tedious late chores. Arthur's such a prat sometimes, but I'll try my best at pleasing him and not get extra duties. Maybe I could even leave extra early…"

Something strange happened with Gareth's expression, especially his eyes, at the mention of Arthur but it passed quickly and Merlin didn't linger on it.

"Wonderful," Gareth said, returning the smile warmly. He laid a hand on Merlin's shoulder, the touch lingering and warm. "Shall I meet you at the physician's chambers? That is where you reside, do you not?"

"That's okay. So, I'll see you tonight?"

Gareth smiled like that he had earlier when sparring with his brother, only this close it was a lot more intense, and the spark in his eyes made Merlin's neck heat up even as he couldn't understand exactly why. "I shall be looking forward to it, Merlin."

Across the field, quietly observing the scene from the corner of his eye, Gwaine grinned accomplished and rubbed his hands together. It was lucky Bedivere unknowingly had helped out by distracting the prince with lots of questions on sword techniques, for three minutes tearing away Arthur's sharp gaze from the servant.

()()()

"And why might you want to have the rest of the day off?"

"I just want to leave an hour or so early, not by much! I promised to meet him."

Arthur's eyes narrowed considerably, he took a dangerous step forward so quickly that Merlin winced backwards, eyes widening. This close he looked a bit intimidating.

"Who?" the prince muttered lowly. "Meet who?"

"Gareth. Sir Gareth, I mean. He asked if I wanted to go to the tavern with him tonight and I said yes."

The prince was suddenly just a few inches from his face. "_What_?" And no, Arthur did not just bellow that. It was a considerably low shout without him losing his composure whatsoever. Not that he had any particular reason to be angry or upset or whatever: of course not, but he had to consider his manservant's…_dignity_.

"Look, it's not a big deal, Arthur…I've already cleaned this room, fixed your armour, fetched your meal and done the laundry. I'll be perfectly on time tomorrow, I promise."

Normally, Arthur would complain he always was late anyway, but now he didn't. He still wore that dark, dangerous look. He looked at the servant for a minute, completely silent, and Merlin bit his lip trying to silence his own breathing, like making a sound would cause the prince to lash out unexpectedly.

Dark thoughts of what exactly that bloody knight could do to his naïve innocent Merlin at the bloody tavern passed through Arthur's mind, making him growl through clenched teeth.

"You're not going."

"But I promised!"

"You're not going."

"Look, if you think they've got something to do with the kidnapping…It won't happen again, I swear: I'm not defenseless! I can do…do stuff! I'm not going to get myself kidnapped or anything, Gareth just wanted to—"

"You are. Not. Going. _Period_."

Merlin frowned. "I don't have to leave early. I'll be right on time tomorrow, I swear."

"You are **not** going! How many times do have I say it to get it into your thick scull?"

"You're acting like a pompous, arrogant _ass_. I'm not some kind of _object_, you can't tell me what not to do in my spare time!"

"You'll stay here and polish my boots. Every single pair of them. And the floors as well. You're not let out of this room until I can see my reflection in each and every one of them."

A vein in the prince's temple seemed ready to burst. Breath deep and huffing, he drew back slightly, stared at the servant and then stormed out of the room. The door slammed and Merlin heard the scramble of keys.

Great. Just…great. Here he was, the great warlock, locked inside the prince's chambers just because said prince acted an ass and didn't want him to make friends with one of his knights. They probably were too _mighty_ to be friends with a lowly _servant_ like him. Scowling, Merlin glared at the door, but with Percival guarding it from the outside he couldn't blast it open with his magic.

A couple of minutes later, the door opened just enough for Percival to push a bucket of water, a brush and a cloth into the room. The guard flashed him a pitiful look before the door once again was locked.

Arthur was such a dollophead.

A stupid, selfish dollophead.


	9. Falling out and making up

**A Prince's best friend  
>Chapter 9: In which there's falling out, coming down and making up<strong>

It was late and his front was soaked when he came back home. Percival (probably on Arthur's orders) had insisted on 'escorting' him all the way – Merlin was terribly annoyed and angry with Arthur still, and therefore a bit annoyed with Percival though the knight was only following the commands of said prince. In fact the gesture was rather sweet.

But it also meant he couldn't take a detour, go somewhere private and use his magic for awhile to take out his frustration, nor could he free his (by now _extremely_ twitchy) ears and tail. He settled to kicking a stray small rock down the corridor, grumbling about stubborn bigheaded dollopheads. The knight lingered by the physician's door. Merlin wondered if he planned to sleep out there on the stone floor, if Arthur had ordered it. Stupid princely orders. Stupid prats.

Gaius wasn't, for once, buried to the nose in an old script or strange-smelling potion, but in conversation with a well-dressed man by the table. Said man looked up, his frown breaking into a smile at the sight of the servant.

"Good evening, Merlin."

It was Gareth. Right, he'd promised to meet up with him here…At the moment though, Merlin felt far too tired to go to any tavern, or anywhere outside this room. He just wanted to get out of his wet shirt and crawl into bed and sleep for an age.

"Hi. Uhm, sorry I couldn't…Arthur gave me some extra chores, stupid prat…"

"No, no, it's all right. I understand."

Gaius regarded the two for a moment. He had that odd look which Merlin found hard to read on his face, he couldn't tell if it was good or bad. "Here, I saved you some dinner, I wasn't sure if you had eaten and either way, you're hardly any more than bones and sinew."

Some of his annoyance and frustration was pushed away by honest gratitude, even if Gaius' meals rarely were tasty. "Thanks, Gaius."

He took seat when Gareth scooted back on the bench, giving him room. He practically inhaled the watery stew, causing the knight to chuckle. "Easy there. You don't want to choke."

Merlin blushed. "I'm _starving_."

"I can tell," Gaius said. "Well, I see you can fend to yourself. I need to pay a visit to the library."

"Oh. All right." Maybe the physician was going to consult a book about magically infused animal traits on humans, or just find something appropriately old and dusty about medicine.

An awkward silence descended on the room as the old man left, closing the door behind himself (Merlin couldn't glimpse Percival; hopefully the man had gone home to get some sleep, he didn't deserve lying out there on the cold stone).

"So, err…What are you still doing here? Not that your company is unwelcome or anything, but I'm afraid I don't have the energy to go to the tavern tonight. Even if I did go, Arthur would probably have my head."

"Why would he?"

Merlin wrinkled up his nose in a displeased grimace. "Well, when I asked him if I could leave an hour early, he got all annoyed, even more so when I said I'd go to the tavern with you. He got really angry and even when I said I would work full-time and be on time tomorrow he still was so, so obnoxious, like I couldn't decide what to do with my own spare time – he got into a huff and ordered me to clean the floors and all of his boots, down to the old pair he hasn't used for two years! He was just being such a _dollophead_ and I don't get why, I mean, I've not asked for a day off like that before and figured it would be okay, Gwen has done it and other servants too," he finished, now with a confused expression adorning his face. The bowl of stew stood forgotten on the table. Gareth examined him with a strange look on his face, nodding in agreement at the dollophead-part.

Merlin missed the growing smile on the man's face.

"Really, he needs to grow up," Merlin continued, ranting now, caught up with his frustration – Gareth followed the story closely, smile growing, still nodding and humming at the right moments. "I know I'm his servant but there are loads of other ones around the castle and I'm not exactly _property_, am I, like an object - plus when would he use those boots anyway? I swear that black pair was from his childhood and ten sizes too small _and_ they had rat holes in them, and he still insisted on having them cleaned and polished 'til they appeared like a mirror. And he locked the door, too, which was very, very annoying, like he was punishing me for something, I don't know what, I just asked a question – it wasn't as if I announced I wouldn't be his servant anymore or leave Camelot! He returned after awhile and sat there and kept _watching_ me, it was almost creepy, I couldn't concentrate at all and I ended up spilling the bucket of water all-over the floor. So he made Percival, that's the knight he's set to 'guard' me for some stupid reason, go and fetch some new water from the water pump. Once I _finally_ could start with the floor, it must've been almost two hours and Arthur was _still_ sitting there watching! He was all silent and all, didn't even point out spots I'd missed – just _stared_ at me!" he finished, gesturing widely with his arms. "I don't get it, I just don't!"

"Well, one could think his royal highness has something up his backside," Gareth said, remembering his brother say something similar just a couple of days ago.

"Yeah. I'm just glad I'm rid of him right now. Honestly, it was so annoying, and creepy, him watching like that…" Besides it reminded him of this morning, waking up in that naked position with said prince, but Merlin blushed at the memory and didn't dare speak of it to the knight beside him.

Gareth's smile twisted suddenly and he got a funny look. "Wait, he's set Percival to guard you?"

Merlin nodded vividly, sipped at the stew and began to speak again. "Yes, do you know him? This very tall, dog-like man…Anyway, Arthur's all worried for some reason, I'm certain he is, but he won't talk much about it and Percival doesn't know much either, I've asked him…He's guarding me all the time, staying right outside the door when I'm in Arthur's chambers, then following me when I have to run errands outside it, fetching food and doing the laundry and stuff…Did you see him at training? He was there all the time, like a shadow. Doesn't speak much, very quiet. I don't understand, really…I'm not defenseless! Arthur refuses to tell me exactly why – though he might be thinking about the kidnapping thing, even if it turned out all right-"

"Kidnapping?" Gareth asked, feigning astonishment, like he didn't know anything about the matter. He rested on his elbow against the table, with an expression he knew was one of pure attentiveness and interest: he hadn't quite perfected the look like his brother, but it was a close one.

"Yeah, I got kind of snatched from a corridor yesterday evening…" Merlin suddenly looked at him worriedly. "Umm, Arthur doesn't really want anyone to know about this, especially not the king…"

"Don't worry; I won't spread any words outside this room. Please, tell me what happened."

Merlin smiled gratefully, nodding before continuing. "So, I was walking toward Arthur's chambers when suddenly the world went black, someone must've covered my head with a cloth or something. I felt hands lift me but my memory is kind of blurry, and after a while I lost consciousness completely…I woke up the next day and Arthur explained what happened, he'd found out I was gone, there'd been this ransom note and he'd run out alone to meet the kidnappers in the forest like an _idiot_. I'm not sure of all the details, he won't tell me for some reason, but he exchanged some 'secret closest to his heart'"- here, the warlock made some cutting motions with his fingers in the air, marking the words –"and made a deal, and the kidnappers let me go. As I said, I don't remember much, and I've got a feeling Arthur's not telling me the whole truth. It made me a bit worried, I mean, that deal he's agreed to could be dangerous or utter idiocy…"

"What about you? Are you all right?"

The servant seemed startled at the question. Throughout the ordeal he'd worried more about Arthur's safety than his own, as was a habit now: Arthur's life was constantly in danger and throwing himself in the way to save the prince so he could live and become the Once and Future King was practically the only thing that mattered. Sure, he'd been scared and shocked when the kidnapping happened, but now it was over and both he and Arthur were all right, and he tried not to linger on it too much.

"Uhh…yeah, sure," Merlin said, blinking. "It's not like they really hurt me…"

"That's good. I wouldn't know what to do with myself, had you gotten hurt."

Merlin looked at the man at first confused. He was that concerned for him? It was quite touching, and he grinned a little, glad to know that at least _someone_ wasn't stubborn enough not to admit it out loud. (Arthur would _never_ admit such a thing unless everyone in the world were out of hearing range, that's for sure, and probably not even then.) Gareth caught that he was smiling and his own lips tugged upwards, and he leaned in.

Somehow they ended up in a hug, the knight's warm arms enveloping him and Merlin's tail twitched beneath his tunic at the contact. It startled the knight: sensing the movement, he drew back.

"Uhm, you know that spell that turned me into a cat? Well, it hasn't really…gone away completely…yet…" Merlin explained awkwardly.

"A _tail_," Gareth muttered in disbelief, and then shook his head to clear his mind. Of course, it shouldn't really surprise him. After all, twenty-four hours ago, the whole servant had been a kitten. The furry thing looked terribly cute, and he had an urge to touch it, recalling how soft and smooth Merlin the cat's fur had been.

"And ears. I really want to take this off now…" Merlin undid the neckerchief on his head. There, much better already. The spell really needed to wear off soon…Hiding his ears was so annoying.

"Adorable," Gareth said, as it was the first thing that came to mind at the sight. Unable to stop himself, he reached out and gently touched one of them. Merlin didn't stop him, so assuming it was all right, he applied a bit more pressure and began to rub the ear. It twitched at the attention and Gareth held his breath when the servant boy closed his eyes. "That good, huh?" the knight murmured when a quiet but distinctive purring sound reached his ears. There was still a cat in there… Gently he continued to scratch the ear, it was rather wonderful and wouldn't mind doing it at all.

After a moment, Merlin realized just what was going on. Inhaling sharply, his eyes snapped open and he drew back, blood rushing up to his face making it hot with embarrassment. Gareth reluctantly pulled back his hand.

"S-Sorry! I, I—" Merlin stammered, when had Gareth gotten so close? The touch hadn't felt bad per se, rather nice and warm, but something tugged in the bottom of his stomach, almost discomfort, at the feel of an unfamiliar hand.

"Don't apologize. It is I that should. Did I make you upset?"

"No, not really, I mean, it's just, nobody except Arthur-god, no, I mean, n-not like that, I mean…" Merlin feebly tried to make sense. The mention and thought of Arthur brought a quick flashback of that first time Arthur saw him after he'd turned into a cat, when he picked him up and scratched his ears, and he blushed horribly at the memory. He seemed to do that a lot lately. It was really annoying, his face getting so hot all the time.

Gareth just smiled calmly. "It's getting late. I should take my leave." He stood, eyes still fixed on the servant; it seemed close to impossible to unglue his eyes from those adorable ears. "Good night, Merlin."

"'Night," Merlin replied, and when the knight had a hand on the doorknob, he looked over his shoulder and added, hesitantly, "Maybe we could do the tavern outing some other day?"

"Of course. I'll be happy to."

()()()

Merlin had spoken the truth about Percival. The man was leaning half-asleep against the wall when Gareth stepped out of the physician's chambers. At the sound of footsteps – rather sharp even when Gareth tried to walk quietly – the man stirred, startled and began to reach for his sword.

"Who's there?" he shouted. "Reveal yourselves!"

"Relax, friend. It's me, Gareth."

Percival blinked down at him, fighting the sleep in his eyes. He was so tall he could tower over anyone and Gareth, who was by no means a small man, had to turn his neck upwards to look him into his face. "Oh. And what business might you have in this corridor at this hour?"

"I could ask you the same, Percival."

"I am on duty for Prince Arthur, if you must know. Now, what are you doing here?"

_Damn it, this could complicate things_, Gareth thought. If the prince had set Percival to guard Merlin like this all the time, also at night, and made the guard question anyone being around said servant…

"I've been visiting a friend. Now, I shall be on my way."

Percival didn't quite believe him, but didn't say anything, and watched the man walk down the corridor. Once the knight was out of sight, he sneaked a look inside the door. Just in case. Everything looked all right and when he concentrated, he could hear calm breathing from within, the room's occupant sleeping. Well, it was Percival's right to worry, when this task had been appointed to him by the prince himself.

()()()

Arthur couldn't sleep.

Tomorrow morning, he'd have to wake up knowing it was two days left…Just two days. It perplexed him that he was worried, relived and saddened at the same time. It was just, if he had to, well, _approach_ Merlin, in these two days he had an excuse to do so. There was the overhanging threat after all. On the other hand, if he never approached the servant, Merlin would still be happily oblivious and nothing could ruin their friendship. Things would go back to the way they were. Besides, Merlin was guarded now: no way could Gwaine or anyone else attempt to…have their way with Merlin when Percival was there. Said knight come guard had been ordered to sleep outside the physician's chambers, so that if anyone attempted to break inside, he'd be in the way.

As he tossed and turned, all kinds of possible scenarios kept running through Arthur's mind, scenarios where he fulfilled the deal he'd agreed to: doing…all right, he couldn't run away from it; kissing Merlin and declaring…well, you know. Most scenarios ended badly, with either Merlin crying or screaming at him in hatred and/or pure anger, or Morgana scolding him, or his father rushing in the worst possible moment, causing the king to hate him or worse, for Merlin to be punished, accused for bewitching the prince. If he really did…did _It_ (with capital 'i' necessarily stressed) what if one of these scenarios came true? What if Merlin began to despise him? What if his father found out: what would he do to Merlin? He couldn't let Merlin be hurt …

Arthur couldn't remember falling asleep, but woke early and grumpy, his head and his back aching, he didn't feel rested at all. A ray of very pale sunlight fell through the tiny crack between the curtains and he couldn't fall asleep again. With a sigh, he stood and dressed, then settled to wait for his manservant.

Merlin wasn't late.

Shockingly enough, he was _early_. The sun had barely risen.

There was no chipper "G'morning sleeping beauty!" as Merlin drew back the curtains and no comments about the state of the room, and the servant didn't look at him more than necessary. He kept his head bowed, eyes lowered and stayed eerily quiet. He put the breakfast on the table without a word, then stepped back waiting for orders.

All in all, he acted as little Merlinish as possible and more like one of those obedient, meek bootlickers that used to serve the evening meals with his father. Everything was perfect: the breakfast was luxurious, complete with red wine; he wasn't loud and annoying, didn't ask stupid (or _any_, actually) questions; he made the bed perfectly neatly when Arthur didn't give any other orders, and then stood there waiting with his head lowered in respect. Respect! Merlin was showing _respect_!

What _in the world_ had happened? Had he slipped in the stairs and hit his head?

The behavior made Arthur honestly worried.

"What is wrong with you, _Mer_lin?" he said, using that kind of tone on the name to gain some kind of reaction. "First you're on time, and now you're acting all meek. If you're ill you should let Gaius have a look at you. Or have you just hit your head?"

"There's nothing wrong with me, sire." Only the 'sire' wasn't like a taunt, it was a plain and simple word and there wasn't a trace of sarcasm and Merlin _still wasn't looking him in the eye._

"Oh? Well then. I shouldn't complain, I suppose. I've not had a proper servant for _months_. Lay out some clothes for me."

Normally Merlin would have raised an eyebrow, since the prince was fully dressed down to a clean pair of socks, but this Merlin just went to the wardrobe and began picking out some outfits. He didn't even ask what kind of clothes the prince wanted, what they were for, if he wanted to go on those boring hunts again or was meeting his father or was a royal, foreign delegation coming or - anything. It seemed he'd decided, for some reason Arthur couldn't really fathom, to not speak a word unless directly answer a question and preferably not even then.

"No, honestly Merlin. What's up with you?" Then a thought hit him: "Still upset about yesterday? The tavern thing? Look, I needed some chores to be done and …" He paused for a moment, but no protest, no acknowledgement came (though Merlin flinched). "No, to be truly honest, I don't like the thought of you being dragged away by some disreputable, dangerous possibly-plotting knight who has got his mind down the gutter like the rest of them, to the bloody tavern where he might try to (and if succeeding I shall have his head!) do some _unmentionable things_ and get into serious trouble. I don't want you involved in…in such things."

Ah – finally, a reaction. Merlin turned his head, silently, to look at him incredulously. Arthur could see he was struggling to hide his curiosity, for a moment his expression slipped before he managed to look blank and uncaring again.

"No comment? Very well. Hand me that jacket."

Merlin helped him into it. When closing one of the buttons, he spoke up, _finally_: "I don't know what you have against Gareth, but I think you acted awfully selfish, sire."

"You wouldn't, if you had any idea what he might've planned—"

"I do consider him one of my friends, and I've got the right to spend some time with them," the warlock said, his composure beginning to crack. "I seriously doubt he would have 'planned' anything bad…sire."

"And what about me, then?"

Merlin snorted. "And you wonder now if yesterday was spending quality time with you, me polishing boots and you staring into infinity?"

"No. Am I one of your friends?"

"Yes. No. Sometimes. At most times you're just too annoying. Sire."

Arthur couldn't hold it in anymore; he cracked up in a beaming relieved smile, resisting the urge to pull Merlin into a hug. The old Merlin was stepping forth, thank god. He couldn't do with that quiet, meek thing. His heart felt incredibly warm too at hearing Merlin admit they were friends. It was wonderful, really.

"Good. That's…good. Don't act like that that again, it makes me anxious."

"I'm still angry, sire," Merlin said quietly, without blinking.

"It was for your own good I didn't let you go to the tavern."

"But _why_?" the warlock pressed. "Gareth didn't do anything."

"Oh yes, he 'didn't do anything'…" Arthur grumbled, picking at the plate in front of him. The bread was a bit dry at the edges and the cheese was that bitter kind he'd never really liked. Was this part of Merlin's anger, his getting back at him, by lowering the standard of the food? If that was the case, he probably shouldn't look forward to lunch too much. Maybe he'd end up poisoned. He had a gut feeling that beneath that kind, selfless exterior the servant could extract some serious anger.

"What did he do?" Merlin asked. Honestly curious this time, and failing at hiding it. His eyebrow was raised a bit, an uncanny shadow of Gaius' Eyebrow Impression When Something Interesting Was Going On (though less wrinkled) which was slightly bothering.

"Well, let's say he had a hand in your…abduction."

The servant's brow furrowed in puzzlement, and he chewed his bottom lip worriedly. "Why'd he do that? He's a nice and kind man, and he's a knight; I never thought he'd to something like that…"

"His reasons were his own and he has been punished for it. Now, I don't want to hear anything more about _nice and kind_ sir Gareth, I don't care if he's some kind of perfectly perfect dreamy knight with perfect teeth; if you so much as sigh like a lovesick milkmaid I _will_ ban him from the city. Am I making myself clear?"

"Like crystal. Still, I wonder…"

Arthur shot him a look. "What?"

"Uhm, nevermind."

"Right then." Arthur stretched, he felt a bit more relaxed now, hopefully Merlin had got the hint to stay away from the treacherous knight and he didn't have to worry (too much) anymore. "Could you fetch me some bathwater, please? Hot but not boiling."

Merlin gave him a look of utter astonishment. "You just said 'please'? The almighty prince prat just _asked_ if I could do something for him. I should mark this date in my calendar and celebrate! Everyone must know!"

Arthur poked him in the ribs. The boy was awfully thin, he noticed, he should be better fed, had he even had breakfast? Merlin swatted away his hand.

"Oh, just go fetch it. Percival will accompany you."

"Must I always be followed by him? He's like a dog. Maybe he _is_ one beneath the chainmail. Not that I dislike his person, but it's aggravating having someone trampling on my shadow all the time."

"You know, somebody's got to be there in case you trip on your own feet and almost kill yourself."

()()()

"Really? Cat ears?"

"Yes. And the tail."

Gwaine whistled. "Cute. I've _got_ to see that."

"No, don't come up with some other plot or idea or plan right now, _please_." Holding his brother in check was hard enough as it was. (Couldn't let his brother lay his hands on the boy, couldn't let him lay his dirty quick hands on the boy…) That was one of the reasons he hadn't yet mentioned his and the servant's postponed tavern outing. It'd be better with just the two of them, alone, without stubborn but insensible princes and cunning ladies and quirky knights around. It could be a nice, memorable moment and maybe he could finally make Merlin spill what he really felt. For such an open, social boy, he was also very quiet, Gareth mused: always wearing his emotions on a sleeve, but still very difficult to read and impossible to really tell what's going through his head.

"So, how did the princeling react then, when finding out about your outing?"

"He was not happy, mainly with Merlin. The poor boy was exhausted when coming home last night, and drenched on the front. He'd been given extra work, and was too tired to actually come with me. I let him sleep, he deserved some rest."

"Hmm, not quite according to plan. But we're getting there."

"One day's passed and the prince has only caused a rift between them," Gareth pointed out. "I think he plans on riding out the storm without rowing, so to speak. Eventually he might use the oars as clubs and knock us out," he added, continuing with the imagery.

Gwaine hum-hum'ed. "Oh, but you haven't spent an hour with lovely lady Morgana and her maid. Wonderful company indeed. Listen, tomorrow after lunch, Merlin will come walking down to the water pump and I need you to be there, help him out, talk with him. Then, five minutes later, Arthur will walk past along with me and Bedievere…"

"Bedivere? Have you corrupted him? God's graces, big brother."

"No, of course not. I only suggested he'd accompany me, there's this sword technique he'd like to learn…Ah, it's going to work out, see. Anyway, we're going to walk through the market unhurriedly, like we have nothing better to do. I will subtly suggest we'd take a round to the pump, where you, conveniently, happen to be located…"

()()()

"Arthur, can I ask you something?"

The prince looked over his shoulder slightly warily. This was the third time this hour. After a while, Merlin's mood had lightened significantly, and he was back to his usual mouthy old self, which was both very comforting and very annoying. He asked so many questions, Arthur barely had time to process one before the next came.

"Yes, _Merl_in?"

"I was thinking about the deal thing again you did with the knights…"

Arthur paused in the middle of writing a sentence in one of many other very boring, official letters to one or another lord in nearby kingdoms. "Hang on! How did you know about the knights?" he asked, surprised.

"I'm not stupid, Arthur," Merlin said with a look that clearly told him that the prince _was_. "I figured it out after you mentioned Gareth had something to do with it, and it makes sense, only they knew about me being a cat. So I was wondering if it was all right I go down and talk with them?"

"I'm going with you."

"Go and talk with them _alone_."

"No, I won't allow that."

"Percival can come with me."

"Maybe. I'll think about it," Arthur admitted begrudgingly. "No promises though." Letting Merlin wander to the knights alone would be like giving a lamb to a pack of hungry wolves. "Why would you like to talk to them anyway?"

"Ask why they did it, of course," Merlin said. "And some other stuff." If Arthur wasn't going to tell him the details of that deal, the knights would.

If Arthur wasn't worried before, he definitely was so now.

"You're taking Percival and I'll come to. Stand guard. Discretely. No arguing on that point."

"I'm not completely defenseless, Arthur," Merlin protested, folding and putting away the last tunic into the prince's large wardrobe. He turned around to face the desk, looking very stern and resolute. "And the things I want to ask, it's easier to get answers if I'm alone with them."

_Like hell I'm leaving you alone with any of them,_ the prince thought. _You're the most stubborn servant I've ever had!_


	10. Prologue of something greater

**A Prince's best friend  
>Chapter 10: In which there's maybe a prologue of something greater<strong>

Merlin wouldn't be convinced. Never before had Arthur encountered such a stubborn soul: once the boy had decided do to something, he wasn't going to be deterred, so in the end the prince had agreed to let Percival be the one to accompany the servant when he went to see the knights, while Arthur would stay behind in his chambers and sulk (thought Merlin_). Of course_ he wouldn't stay behind and never would he, prince of Camelot, do something as undignified as _sulk_; it just wasn't done. He did the only logical thing, which was follow at a safe distance, glancing around every corner and diving into alcoves to not be discovered.

The servant was thankfully very oblivious, but Percival kept looking over his shoulder, feeling they were being followed or watched. Maybe he should think of a diversion to get rid of him?_ Oh yes, brilliant plan, _Arthur scolded himself, _and let Merlin into the wolves' lair alone?_

They walked through a corridor, crossed the courtyard, into direction of the training fields. Today sir Leon would be in charge of training (as the prince had lots of more important stuff to do, like reviewing documents, replying to letters, sit in meetings with his father and the councilors, and spy, no, _subtly keep an eye on_ wayward servants).

Arthur pressed himself against a wall trying to seem as insignificant as possible, when the guard looked his way. Which was quite difficult, mind, when you're a prince and walking through your own town; some people might notice and acknowledge him, either having him discovered or slowing him down.

He managed to snatch a piece of conversation. A slightly one-sided conversation considering Percival's fondness of silence; but anyway, it gave him a clue. "…see no reason for them to do something like that," Merlin was saying up ahead. "Do you?"

"Perhaps, but it's not my place to tell," replied the knight and Merlin made some vivid gesture (probably groaning in frustration) and shook his head.

"Even you seem to know while I don't! Arthur won't tell me a thing either, he's like a mule, once he's set his mind to something he won't deter."

Percival nodded in agreement and didn't say anything.

The servant continued; "This whole thing is starting to feel ridiculous and I want to sort it out."

The knight nodded, again, and didn't say anything.

"I wonder if they're trying to set me up with Arthur? It's plausible isn't it? Like, they want to gain a reaction…"

He was figuring it out! He was figuring it out! The prince felt his breath quicken. If Merlin realized what was going on, Arthur probably was going to die from humiliation. Or maybe of pure joy, though the latter was less much less possible by the prince's calculation, since Morgana was involved in this whole affair (and she's quite evil) and then his father was even suspecting things, which made it worse, Q.E.D, if Merlin figured things out before Arthur's ready to take the blow, the prince was truly really screwed.

Merlin grew suddenly somber, and something in Arthur's chest hurt a bit when the servant said; "Thought it's probably just a silly thought. Like Arthur would care, like that, you know…? No, 'cause he's a prince … and I'm a servant. I'm just wistfully thinking here, about him and me and - Um, not like that!" he gasped when Percival turned is head and looked at him inquiringly, the servant's ears turning red, and the following words came out in a quickly babbled stream. He couldn't explain away the slip or ignore it, when the knight was expecting clarification, but his heart began to beat faster as his head filled with, umm, _improper_ thoughts. "N-not like that! Err I mean, not like _that_, that - just, umm…you get what I mean, right? … How am I gonna be able to look at the knights with a straight face and ask something like that? That Arth—not that he does, he can't, I can't - _what if it's true_? What if-?"

(Oh, how Arthur wished he could read Merlin's mind that moment, just to know if Merlin was thinking the same kind of things he was.)

"You better calm down before you start to hyperventilate," advised Percival.

"This is all Arthur's fault," Merlin moaned. "It is. And mine, a little, just a little and the knights' – not you, Percival! - but mostly _his_. If he'd never noticed it when I turned into a cat none of this would have happened. Aw, why do these things keep happening to me?"

"Bad luck?" the knight suggested.

The servant grimaced. "More like a talent."

()()()

The knights appeared very happy to see him, hands waving and voices calling his name. Most of the men on the field greeted the servant – everybody liked his kind, happy nature – but Merlin chose to focus on two of them.

"So, I have a question."

Gareth's brother, Gwaine, smiled in that special kind of way and winked making Merlin's cheeks warm. It wasn't making him very comfortable so he tried to ignore it.

"How may we help you, Merlin?"

"What kind of deal did you strike with Arthur?"

Gwaine looked like he'd taken a hit beneath the belt, Bors fell off his chair and Gareth lowered his face in embarrassment, which was all well because Merlin thought that they, as nice as they at first seemed to be, deserved to feel ashamed.

"And don't come tell me you don't know what I'm talking about!" he more or less commanded.

"All right. I give up: it's all part of a delicate plan…"

"What Gwaine is trying to say it," Gareth cut in, "that we're very sorry for the trouble we've caused, but hope it will pay off in the end."

"Yes, pay off as in making a happy couple," his brother filled in, palms lifted in a sign of peace.

The servant gave them a confused look. What were they on about? Pay off? They'd created worry and suspicion and made Arthur well and quite _paranoid_, that's what. How could that in any way help anyone or 'pay off'? He couldn't understand what they wanted to go with this 'plan', unless is involved a bratty Arthur. And himself. All right, his earlier tiny, wistful thought was just…just a silly guess. It couldn't be…right? Just a silly guess. It's not like the knights knew about those inappropriate, passionate, dreamy thoughts sometimes filling his head…Nope, they weren't telepathic, so Merlin assumed his secrets were safe. Had assumed, anyway. If they knew about _that_ then…no, they couldn't know of his magic as well, could they?

"That doesn't answer my question," Merlin said, carefully still thinking over possible possibilities of implausible causes. "What was the deal?"

"You'll see. It's not my place to tell," said Gwaine.

Swirling around, Merlin pointed an accusing finger at Percival's chest, making said knight step back in surprise. "That's what _you_ said!"

"I haven't corrupted him," Gwaine defended himself at his brother's sharp look. The tallest knight of the three just shrugged. "Maybe it was Bors," he added thoughtfully. "That one time with the barrel of wine …"

"I won't even _ask_," Gareth said with a shake of his head.

"This is ridiculous! I'm going to just forget all of it and move on!" Merlin exclaimed and stomped off across the training field. Why did the knights have to be so…so infuriating and obviously influenced by Gwaine's attitude? They were all so annoying. Obviously, they were Arthur's knights so his pratness might've rubbed off a few of the bunch, but still. They all seemed set on hiding things and complicate them and even if they had good intentions, Merlin wanted to smack them over the head for being so _ridiculous, _actinglikechildren with nothing better to do. He should wear a sign: 'Annoying people, please leave me be, stop meddling with my love life.'

"So, what was the deal?" Percival asked, glancing over his back; he had to hurry after the servant, for he was certain that the prince would have his head if he lost him.

Gwaine smiled slyly. "Oh, just something about three days and a kiss, nothing serious. I was thinking about giving the boy some very _practical_ advice, though, on how to _properly_-"

Closing his eyes in attempt to hide his mortification at his brother's behavior, Gareth reached out a hand and covered Gwaine's mouth with it muffling the following words.

"I was going to say 'how to properly polish a sword'," the dark-haired knight said once he hand was removed.

"Say that in front of Merlin and Arthur will most probably kill you. In a vat of hot oil. And castrate you afterwards."

"Oh? Well, I suppose _he'd_ rather be the one to teach Merlin that."

()()()

_Gwaine_. Arthur growled quietly to himself…_Gwaine in a vat of hot oil_…Yes, he better prepare a vat of hot oil just in case or lock Merlin away in some high tower guarded by a dragon because Gwaine was about to corrupt all of the knights with his dirty mind, and who knew what they could do? _Try_ to do. Arthur wouldn't let them. Do anything. To Merlin. Gareth's suggestions were a quite good idea. Maybe such an official threat from the prince could put Gwaine off for awhile.

The servant had seemed to figure things out – half-way, anyway. He had been rather angry and Arthur hoped it would pass soon, because an angry Merlin wasn't good, it affected everyone around him.

"Looks like I have to fulfill that deal after all," the prince muttered to himself. Only how was he supposed to do that smoothly without upsetting Merlin further or end up with a black eye?

()()()

Work, work, work. There was no end to it. By mid-day, he was allowed a break to go home and eat and what wasn't waiting for him but Gaius' You-need-to-clean-the-leech-tank-Look™.

"Can't I magic it up?" Merlin asked hopefully.

The physician gave him a stern look. "Don't you remember what happened last time you used magic?" he said and gestured at the boy's cat ears and that was the end of discussion.

So after quickly eating a piece of bread with smoked pigeon, Merlin grabbed a bucket and hurried for the water pump. Arthur needed him back to work in one candlemark, surely waiting with some old clothes that had to be laundered or a very dusty, messy chamber or a line of boots or there was something else to be done…

At least Percival wasn't following on his heels again: the knight had to have a break himself, and Merlin had (only a bit ashamed) tricked him into staying back at Gaius' place and eat at a proper pace and rest his feet. The man must spend all day just standing up and looking at people in that creepy way.

"Couldn't Gaius to this himself for a change?" Merlin moaned as he finally arrived at the water pump, a bit out of breath. "I'm not _his_ servant."

Suddenly a voice on his left appeared. "Do you need a helping hand?"

"Gareth!" Merlin exclaimed, swirling around and almost dropping the bucket. "What are you doing here?"

"Do I need an excuse to see a friend?"

The servant looked at him incredulously, feeling his chest sting at those words: he'd really would've believed them, if not for… "Friend? You _kidnapped_ me!" he hissed, lowering his voice to not gain unwanted attention (who knew what an exclamation like that could do, if spread to the public).

"I'm truly sorry, Merlin," the knight said and he looked so honest and pitiful like a kicked puppy, Merlin hesitated with one hand on the pump, considering whether to forgive the man (and still be angry of course over his and the other knights' ridiculousness) or simply still be angry and stomp away. He disliked being angry at people and though he was hurt by the knights' strange behavior, he had a sense in his heart that they meant well and Gareth was still looking like a hurt puppy. Whatever scheme the knights had wasn't working out the way they'd planned, but they weren't evil, and he would like to be their friend.

"All right," he sighed. "I forgive you. It doesn't mean I'm not upset, though."

"We meant well. It just got a bit out hand. I'm sorry."

Merlin shook his head, he wanted to this behind. He still had to deal with a bratty Arthur and getting rid of his cat ears and tail. Deciding it was best to just square his shoulders and continue walking through life like nothing had happened, the servant gestured at the second bucket he'd filled with water. "Help me carry this to Gaius'?"

Two things simultaneously happened: Gwaine came into view around the corner, and it was Gareth's cue, he moved in. Merlin gasped in surprise when Gareth leaned in very, very close unlike anyone ever had before, the man's stubbly chin pressing into his own and his lips near – _what's he doing_? The thought stumbled uncertainly across Merlin's mind, the arm around his shoulders tightening, when an angry yell tore them apart.

"_Stay away from him!"_

He felt tumbled, a bit unfocused and was only vaguely aware of the strong hand fisting his jacket and pulling him backwards, away from the knight. For a moment the hand held him close, a warm broad chest against his back, before it pushed him behind the owner's body and released him.

"What the hell are you doing?" the angry voice continued to rage.

Merlin blinked, once, twice. "What—"

"Sire," interrupted Gareth, but could say no further because Arthur was suddenly attempting to beat the man to the ground, much to the surprise of onlooking citizens who stopped to watch the commotion.

It took a moment for Merlin to come back to his senses and realize what exactly was going on, the knight eating mud and bloody murder written on the prince's face.

"Stop it!" Merlin cried, attempting to grasp the prince's shoulder. "For god's sake Arthur, stop beating the man into a pulp!" Once he finally got a grip of the prince, he was almost thrown off my the sheer force of Arthur's movements. The man tried to shrug him off, but Merlin stubbornly held on. There was a look of pure bloody _anger _on Arthur's face; there was no other way to describe it. Was it physically possible, steam would be coming out of his ears. Merlin, tightening his grip of the shoulder, shook him forcefully to try and bring some sense into his mind. "Arthur, I said _stop_ it, let him _go_!"

It took some subtly used magic to drag the prince off the now disheveled and bruised knight. Arthur's face was red and twisted in a grimace of rage, and he didn't tear his gaze away from Gareth who with the help of Bedivere pulled himself up from the ground.

"Arthur, what in god's name are you _doing_?" Merlin asked, horrified at the scene.

The prince didn't listen to him. "How, how _dare_ you—" he growled at Gareth. "I don't care if there's a deal or not, I'll _never_ allow anyone to—to—" Arthur practically choked, unable to say the words out loud.

Merlin was worried the prince might get a heart attack from the anger and stress alone, he could see how strained the prince was, how close he was to exploding fully. "Arthur, you've got to calm down, calm down…Let's get out of here, all right?" He still hadn't let go of the shoulder. As gently but still firmly as possible he turned the prince around and began to lead him up toward the citadel, the bucket of water completely forgotten.

As well as being worried about him, Merlin was riled up and babbling into the prince's face – why did he have to cause or be at the centre such trouble all the time? "You've got to tell me, Arthur, _what_ exactly was that deal about? It's been so much sneaking around and avoiding the subject and the guarding and you being stubborn in general, I thought the kidnapping had been solved! I spoke with the knights—they were ridiculous but this, this is just plain _stupid_!"

When they were standing in the middle of a corridor, the prince suddenly laid his hand on either side of head, holding him in place, but Merlin wouldn't have moved anyway, being so startled. He barely dared to breathe, because Arthur looked so serious, so silent and solemn, blue eyes boring into his, and he could feel his heart beat furiously against his ribcage, Arthur had never looked at him with such intensity before, never straight into his eyes.

"This was the deal," Arthur murmured, leaned in and kissed him.

()()()

"That worked out pretty fine, yeah?" Gwaine mused, humming on his breath. A grin seemed permanently etched onto his face since five minutes back, and widened at the sight of the pair down the corridor.

"Yes," Gareth agreed, happy to see the pair together, though a little sad because he mightn't love, he liked Merlin quite a lot and whatever chance he'd had was out of the window now. The main thing was that Merlin and the prince were happy and the knights would be able to witness their future blossom, and hopefully, _hopefully_, Gwaine would stop nagging about them now.

Unless, of course, he wanted to make wedding plans. Oh yes, naturally. He would help making wedding plans. And make sure no one ever attempted to tear the couple apart. And give a hand solving the whole magical bit because the knights _weren't_ as oblivious as Arthur when it came to the servant's uncanny luck (but they didn't have that much trouble with it, really, as it had saved them, the city and the prince many times over; really, the boy should be more careful, lest the king found out and went into frenzy).

Deciding to ignore those thoughts for now, Gareth gently rubbed his lower chest, muttering, "I might have bruised a rib."

()()()

Gasping and clapping her hands over her mouth to catch the sound, Gwen found her cheeks reddening, and she shied backwards into the alcove fearing she might've been spotted. The couple was oblivious however, the prince's hand tangled in Merlin's hair and the servant pressing close, clinging to Arthur's shirt.

"That is so _cute_," she squeaked.

"I told you it'd work, even if they're slow to get it," her mistress said with a pleased smile.

()()()

"Oh, you idiot," Merlin whispered as they parted, what felt like many minutes later, out of breath. "It took a cat, some knights and a kidnapping for you to finally kiss me?"

Arthur kept his gaze, surprise shining in his eyes. "You mean…you've felt this way all along?"

"Always," the warlock murmured, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He felt warm and tingly all-over, and wondered idly how it'd feel if Arthur touched him in more ways than one and if it'd be better than he'd dreamed if they did more than just kiss. "I never thought you'd return them … This isn't a dream, is it?"

"We're both idiots," Arthur said and laughed a bit, from deep down his chest, and enveloped him in a warm steady embrace. Kissing Merlin had been the most perfect, _right_ feeling he'd ever had: he'd never held someone this close and felt like they belonged right there, by his side, possibly forever. "A pair of oblivious idiot lovefools."

"Hmm, yeah, but you're the biggest one. I'm the one with a brain in this relationship."

"Relationship? That sounds good to me," the prince murmured, leaning in and nibbling at the servant's jaw, close to a second kiss and Merlin was about to say something but it turned into an incoherent mewl of pleasure, cheeks reddening. "And so, I guess it's time for me to teach you how to _properly polish a sword…_"

()()()

"No! Lemme watch! Please!"

Gareth didn't reply, just manhandled his brother back to the training fields. It was a good safe distance from the royal chambers.

"You're mean," Gwaine said petulantly.


	11. How it then worked out

**_Author's_**_** note**: Complete! Thank you everyone who have had the patience to hang on despite delays and slow updates, and to everyone who have favorite/alerted this story.  
>Also a special thanks to my reviewers - <em>random_person_1517, momo9momo, Moonlighandraindrops, Tsuki Amano, manni85, merlingirl, popcorncrazy_ (anonymous)_, Slythermint, oztan, Magpie1600, BabyGlover, Ground _(anon.),_ WolfAngelDeath, xXMistressMadHatterXx, TheClover1212, Masih, Emi-Stella, marzZZza, SJ Stillwell, Willow Battlegale, BB-chan _(anon._), butterflysmile, EvilCabbagezPwn, Shukei Hakuteiken - _lots of love to you guys! And thanks in advance to everyone who reads, comments or faves this story in the future. Without you guys this story wouldn't be complete today._

()()()

**A Prince's best friend  
>Epilogue: How It Then Worked Out<strong>

For once, it didn't feel bad at all to wake up, spooned against a warm firm body and Merlin didn't worry it was a dream (because last night had felt far to wonderful and _close_ and had left a faint ache confirming it was real, not any kind of illusion). He just cuddled closer to the warmth and thought that he wouldn't mind waking up every morning from now on in Arthur's arms in Arthur's bed, safe, secure, together. The warlock didn't worry about some untimely servant or guard barging in or even the king himself finding out about his and the prince's relationship. He didn't worry about having to tell Arthur about his magic, because he had a feeling deep in his chest that it would work out fine, that what they had couldn't be broken. Arthur really was more caring and selfless than he let on. Last night had been solid proof of that. Oh well, mostly selfless. He might've been a bit selfish last night, but it hadn't been bad either.

(The prince had been quite pleased to find that Merlin had never really been intimate with anyone before, and thus was very eager to teach him about _sword polishing_. Merlin was never going to look at that particular chore with the same eyes ever again.)

Everything was simply utterly perfect.

A hand came up to stroke his ears, maybe automatically by now, but it paused as it encountered morning-tousled, soft hair and no triangular-shaped furry ears. Merlin felt something was different, and there was none of that twitching that had been a constant these last few days. He rolled onto his back, lying comfortably. No tail … The spell had broken!

Merlin was very happy, but also a bit saddened; he'd really enjoyed being scratched behind the ears, even by prat princes. _Especially_ by prat princes.

"I liked those ears," Arthur muttered, only half-awake, nuzzling into Merlin's neck. Arms wrapped around the boy tighter, so he couldn't escape, which Merlin had no plans to d anyway. "Stay," the prince commanded.

"I won't ever leave," Merlin promised, really promising something deeper, more important than this moment, gasping when Arthur touched that sensitive spot near his collarbone and he pressed closer to feel more. Wonder if Arthur would have anything against trying what they did last night again? (And again, and again, and again…)

()()()

It came to no surprise to any of the knights, half of the servants, some of the councilors, the court physician, and probably many other people who didn't speak of it openly, when neither prince nor servant were nowhere to be seen in the castle for hours.

Gwaine was held hostage by his brother and fellow knights who thought it was best they leave on a _long_ patrol somewhere along the northern border (of course after making sure Percival and some of the more reliable, strong men were left behind to guard Camelot). No ale or other alcoholic beverages were brought along. That however didn't stop Gwaine from starting to make wedding plans. Sir Bors, who lingered in the city closely watched by his wife, eventually regained his sanity.

Lady Morgana appeared incredibly pleased for days and her maidservant kept blushing furiously at the mention of the prince, the prince's manservant or the two in any kind of combination. Well, mostly at the combination. Of any kind. Especially intimidate ones. Swords and shields were also quite sensitive subjects.

The dragon in his cave got himself a well and good laugh. Again. (Those tiny two-legged beings were certainly too amusing for their own good; it took them forever to realize things and act them out and accept their Destiny.)

King Uther was befuddled as to the strange atmosphere among his councilors and glared at people more than usual (his poor servant ended up in a nervous crying heap) and honestly couldn't for his life believe Gaius when the physician claimed that prince Arthur had fallen ill and better spent the following days in his chambers, "taking a break from the stressful court life." He had an inkling that the servant boy, Marvin or whatever his name was, had something to do with it but couldn't pinpoint exactly what or why. It probably had to do with said servant's mysterious absence from the moment the black kitten came onto the stage. People's odd behavior had started with that cat. _Everything_ started with the cat.

Yes, it _must've_ been the cat, the king decided, and thought it best to ban those infernal creatures from the citadel. Preferably the whole city. Maybe dogs could be trained to take care of that rat problem.

**Whereas Felines, of All and Any Kind, Species, Shape or Colour, Were No Longer Welcomed in the Kingdom of Camelot as Decreed by Its Great (Marvelous, Superb, Self-righteous, Prominent etc etc) King Uther Pendragon During the 24th Year of His Reign.**


End file.
